The robbers rob and the thieves thieve,
Like the warriors that bled from too much
That they foresaw and had felt a need to expunge,
For the heroes of this day shall turn into odors
One does feel arise from within.
The proud claimants damage their willpower,
Towards the sun they stood and sat upon the high,
Liking the dames being led to their deaths,
And then forsaking all else in the faces.
Your token arrives from another planet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem