I caught this mourning on this morning's daybreak spring,
Cannons rattling, Falcon jets, dapple, diving, drowning sounds, whining,
Over rolling hills, swifter than air on high;
Their reign of terror on a whimpering ring
Of humanity, then back and forth return like a swing;
Feel the hate sweep smooth on a low bend, hurling fire then gliding,
Rebuffing the pain and cries of people in hiding.
Brute force acting from corrupt pride, brings doom and fear;
A buckling fire that aims to break the back of a million
Innocents: devilish, dangerous, hell's cavalier!
No wonder of it: queer gods invoked, and billions
Of dollars ploughed in causes that cost dear;
Enthrall themselves: cash and gold for blood vermillion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem