Breaking the silence of night
She supplicates unto our eternal dreams.
Knocking at our doors
She whispers unto our meads and ivory towers-
Of peace that was never won by war,
Of promised lands never regained by guns,
Of the gentle winds never born out of fire and smoke,
Of the conquest of the world thro’ the roaring missiles.
And there, in search of an oasis
She flees from a barking world.
As the naked truth of war
She scampers, lo! In her birthday suit!
A girl of eight,
All the way she is in a roaring pain.
In raised hands
She implores unto our endless nights.
Beyond her cradles and gentle winds
She is frantic for a fondling touch.
Knocking down all our vanity fairs
She is raining unto our hearts and all generations.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem