in the hot air of twilight
the news of calamity is great
silent attendants of death
come to reap their harvest
birds gather over the field
as harbingers of night
their restless undulations
flee the relentless wars
the sun shall kiss the earth
with the sacred fire of god
a baptism of sorts endures
a cleansing gift of universe
then spring descends again
on the scorched barren fields
a single seed blessed with grace
welcomes the flood of time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem