The anger dies after the fire quiets,
Ashes are all that's left and they remind
Of a fire that burned in a hungry riot,
That burned all it could find.
It was there and gone too quickly to see,
leaving only it's ashes behind.
The useless remains of what used to be;
This angry arson, a furious crime.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem