PROUD is the state of its millions of men,
And proud is the state of its name;
In its borders are masters of brush and of pen,
And wide as the world is its fame.
It stands for the best of the blood of the years,
Yet an eye for an eye is its way,
And there at the base of its progress appears
The chamber of murder today.
It has fashioned the visions of ages long gone,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem