I had a vision,
Long back torn
Which I still gaze at
And wish to be worn.
I think to embrace
To fish it back,
But the nets get torn
I loose the taken track
I wade through it
To play in that mire
Of that long lost dream
In the revengeful fire
I was a boy
And I wanted to play,
With the pages of the books
With ink one day
But they gave me sword
A religion to fight
A religion unknown
Of detest and fright
I tried to learn
To hate and kill,
To spill lives and blood
A disgraceful thrill.
I gazed at the sky
To profess my God,
It gazed back again
My faith all flawed
I ran in my boots
Across lands and miles
To struggle against 'struggle'
With a coward heart virile
The craving for a pen,
Had been placed by a gun,
And the power of the ink
By blood and the dying Sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem