parch lips, wind blowing
teary eyes. sleep calling
embers flying hungry crying
a sword deep inside cutting
could there be a deer
yes, to wander near
the reach of my eagle's eye
before all of us soon die
cruel world on our feet
beneath is enormous wealth
only the bearded dare to take
god give us food while we are awake
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem