Amid noise of canon fire and explosion
is drowned men’s cry of peace! peace!
only war sirens and marching files
no peace, no peace, but discord and strife
Love has taken wings
hate is on the driving seat
world sits on a volcano’s peak
man’s life tied to a burning swing
Peace to last must flow from your inmost being
as compassion’s rain
not a flame lit by ambition
planting new laurels on alien lands
Peace is a flower that grows in Love’s soil
it requires continuous tending and toil
only in a sefless heart its seed sprouts
and sapling reaches its full dimension.
(Yayati)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem