the search for
peace is never ending
the way the white doves
are thrown to air
is never a perfected flair
our peace is just
another temporary arrangement
as they gather more arms
and take more territories
their mind is fixed
to take us all and then shout to the world
that they have finally attained
their independence
and what is independence?
it comes only when we all die
for it is only at that moment
when they all live.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem