The air is almost clearly visible
A type of haze weaving through the tree
Tall and majestic with different shades of green
A smell of mystery stings the earth
Humidity sticks to the ground
Faint rumbles of a past storm churn the waters
Low growls of a coming storm play in the clouds
Blood stains litter the space
Invisible to our eyes
The music of battle deafens our ears
Vibrations make our sight blurry and red
Blind with fury
Blind with unknowing
How will this conflict end?
How will it begin?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem