Then one day I saw
The students of the school of suffering
Wearing their tattered uniforms
With their badge of poverty.
They graduated from
The school of suffering
They are the qualified candidates
Of the school of hope.
The school of hope is no ordinary school
For it has a prison
A dungeon specially reserved
For the prisoners of hope
They are the victims of the tyrants regime
Who always promise them
All will be well
But look they are still prisoners
Hungry, tattered, battered and poor
For they have no job, no food, no life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good diction and imageries, enriched in metaphors. Great work.