Democracy is not grown and cultivated
In crimson poppy fields that bathe in the sun
Democracy is not a shield to hide behind
When your deceit finally becomes unspun.
Democracy cannot be wrestled from the grasp
Of men who rule with a tyrannical lash
Democracy is not a beautiful phoenix
That soars from conquered cities reduced to ash.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem