The sun was as dark as Black Tuesday
Where war dogs are thirsty for blood
The black blood flow to the oceans
Young red clue milk spread on the street
The heroes massacred in fact of their drivers
The glory of the land was lost astray.
The Spirit of Lagoon cries so loud
Because the future is wet with the coolest flood,
The golden vessel has fallen and destroyed
Keep dreaming with empty eyes.
The day keeps passing,
The road may end,
Not the journey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem