Caught in a sandstorm we strive onwards,
The sand is awesome, the sand is massive;
We throw our weapons down swiftly to seal
Our pact with the desert people, the nomads.
They catch us because we are living forever,
Inside us is a soul to matter, more than grains of sand.
The whole storm shall make us proficient in acts
Of innocence, the nomads know us;
We are able to unite and be nomadic
Without the weapons of our choice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
...without weapons, yes it's possible only without weapons!