Although we don't have basic reason to fight,
Yet we fight for silly reason, making it bright,
The truth when it comes to us, we oft deny,
What death! For power we make people die,
For law, convict is a convict, a common parlance,
And those who kill millions' dream, with tricky lance,
For them, human value is nothing but a chance,
For I think, truth, the neglected baby, perchance,
As I heard, it's harvesting season, the war,
Seeds of peace are sown for peace, near or far,
Yet peace sprouts no more peace, only death blood,
River of hatred over flowed, Ah! A disgusting flood,
War never brings happiness but sorrow and tear,
Stop war, bring peace into the millions' heart, my dear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem