The trees have gone sour
The man has run mad
The king has lost power
The flag is now sad
The priest is now lost
The winds chant the war song
Our souls become heavy costs
Our feet under the throng
A ha! we beg you
To spread your shadow
We planned our own coup
Our crowns are the fallen hallows
Heal the cry of our song
Bend the days of our scars
Our redemption moment, too long
Now, still we end in stone bars
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem