I feel powerless against this mountain
my screaming and wailing,
fall flat on ears that were deaf long ago
their eyes are crippled and only see
a truth so twisted,
a self-serving prophecy
They sit piously and happy to be
in the soft womb of a goverment
That will never serve me
a courtroom of lies.
Evil lines its pockets with blood from my side
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem