the dead are stirring in their graves
their dreams were never realized
spring gives up a violet bloom
and yet our hopes are paralyzed
and on the hill the wildcat prowls
its tender prey has wandered far
somewhere another mother weeps
her son consumed by endless war
the veil of death is like a fog
the angels weep and demons roar
where toxic clouds pollute the air
before the funeral parlor door
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a true picture of the world we live in. Though many of us turn a blind eye to the dark side of life but it exists nonetheless. You have presented a stark reality in an excellent way. Kudos.10
Sad but true. We must all try to improve on this brutal world.