Season changes as you change
To bring new, new weather
Like your policy
Of different taste and colour
Packed in a box
The game of politics
You play with me Waste and worthless
But do not you see
We are at the same rung
Of the same bottom
Your new, new weather
Senseless and defenceless
Will be fixed in a tasteless season
With the missiles and bombs
Dropped by the more powerful sun.
I do not have any means
Or means of defence
So I wish to quit
To play the games
Patricide and fratricide
My all efforts are now
On co-operation of collaboration
On our own defence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem