I have not heard anything from you
I was then much busy too
To remind you about, the last shout
Of the mercenaries, whose guns sprout?
The crop of bullets, in recurring bout
To paralyze minds, and life of all kinds
Surely, have you, heard these too
But have been waiting, for calculating
How much children, have they under run
The merciless crops, of guns
pops Up to the hill,
to kill and to kill and to kill
Hey beautifully put across..hope peace prevails n ends d merciless crop of guns... God Bless: -)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
aakum akram...i feel the pain an anguish of the confidant boot and incorrigible snoot we poets can only do so much and pen the cry of today very nice and touching lines...liked it a lot cheers....some of my poems though long my be to your liking