I have washed it so, but it doesn't go,
The blood remains, thick and heavy,
Sticking as it does, on hands of many,
Blood on hands in prayer raised,
Blood in the name of religion shed,
Seeping in earth, darkening it red,
Hiding in corpses of innocent dead
Is it where the gods have fled?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem