Can you not hear the voices, you leaders of men
It's the voices of the dead crying put this war to an end.
You sit at your deks with butts in your hands,
while the blood of our boys color foriegn sands.
What voices you queary, what voices do tell,
It's the voices of death screaming war is hell.
Oh, you who play God with the lives of our boys,
you play as if their bodies are leaded toys.
How can you sleep soundly the voices do yell,
stop the slaughter of our boys, don't you see war is hell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a most powerful piece. I'm against fighting this war and our gov't full of pansies. bravo