Baying sentinels lick up a tombstone since decayed:
A vain ablution for dim memories of a hooded kind
Streams of flowing eulogies launder the sullied image
Screams of dismay ringing through hallowed portals
Gurgles of protest from the pond of martyred blood.
Brothers-at-arm armed with pens dipped in treachery
Charlatans as scribes etched new writs of ripped leaves
The tale of the villain prosed with elegant heroic letters.
Aroma of cheap-scented words stirs one widow’s veil;
A whiff of revulsion to another’s widow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem