when the day crashes
like an oceans wave
the sea begins to beem
a sound that wants to be a classic prayer
will the sound be heard by sattelies
owned and operated by the government
or will the sound die quietly
with no one knowing the suffering
a stash of salt will hiss
and we will be the ones to make it up that
we live in eternal bliss for years
then heaven delivers a gift
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem