The sun doth shine,
and the birds do sing,
on Sundays,
man, the church bells he rings.
He prays for guidance from his lord,
then he steps outside, into his tank,
and wields his sword.
Innocent men women, and children,
are blown up, and slaughtered,
hostages taken,
beheaded, and quartered.
Will man, ever learn to live in peace,
or will he just go on for ever, killing,
until his very existence, comes to a cease.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem