One day the fishermen will from the shore
Dip into the sea
Where there will be no catch;
The eddies of death shall whirl upon their heads
And the angry sea will surround them
Drown them and ask them
To vomit his fauna and flora.
Then the last gong of toil shall sound
And a dirge of merriment sung
On those who plundered the sea
Mop his sweet
And build oases in the desert.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem