you are right about your song of the armalite
and its baby
you are realistic about the power of ammunitions
these bullets of the times
these domestic wars
fought between us
brothers
and
countrymen
the widows weep, the children are lost,
some strangers look for their bags of clothes
others for their arms and legs
others lose their senses
while on the negotiating tables
the sponsors of the war
are drawing the lines
in bold strokes
in percentages: how much goes to the supplier
of the armalite
and the baby armalite
how much goes to the mercenaries and the soldiers in the field
how much goes to the brokers
the spokesmen
and how about the civilians
those who lose their loved ones
you are right Bodoy
there is nothing for them
except perhaps his lousy poem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem