That the meek shall inherit the Earth
Remains until now an unfulfilled prophecy
In a world where innocent blood surfeits
Will innocence or meekness ever be crowned?
Will the lamb ever roar or the wolf ever bleat?
The din deftly drowns the sweet notes of birds
In a pandemonium of devilish shrieks
The decorated columns for banquets
All set for celebrations suddenly get deserted
Relax, O King! guests in multitudes
Shall majestically stride into, at your slightest nod
And assume the seats that others left in unrest
The grandeur of a hawk strikes the meek blind
But the dove, the meek one sees through the Night
Nothing can any longer blur his clear vision
An all-seeing eye shoots up blazing, never to be put out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
But the dove, the meek one sees through the Night Nothing can any longer blur his clear vision there is an all-seeing eye-...... very nice thought of hope although the poem begins with the big question can the meek win? thank you. very thought provoking poem. tony