The child is crying in my heart,
As bullets rain over the valley,
What is he mourning for?
Oh on hearing sound of bullets!
On hearts and on rooftops!
He is not crying without a reason,
In thisheart that is scorching!
It rains blood in all the seasons,
in this wretched forlorn valley,
Also the same way in my injured heart,
It rains and flows out through tears of fire,
By far the worst pain, we've ever seen,
O the child is bitterly weeping!
What! for leader's treason!
What! for ruthless subjugation!
What! for camouflaged genocide!
This is the worst oppression!
This is the worst occupation!
Killing, maiming and blinding,
With impunity enjoyed by killers!
My heart is injured too much,
It rains blood in my heart,
As it rains on the valley,
What a tyranny so harsh!
Oh biting sound of the bullets,
On the earth and in the skies,
Is blasting my heart again and again!
This resistance is not without reason
Mykoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem