Why do we have to sing the
ragae of sorrow,
And dance to the gbedu of
bitterness?
For this street is a hot desert-
home of dryness,
But, is there still hope for us
tomorrow?
I don't think we would smile
again,
For the land goes crazy day
by day,
The throne-dwellers have also
lose their sane,
So, who's going to write us a new
hope today?
For there's a river in our eyes that
flows with bitterness,
A haven in our hearts, that
entertains distress.
When is the messiah coming?
For the land is already burning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The will not come Till we re-fill the form. Nice job!