He was the humble custodian of truth
Who ruled Par- a- guy a mere 35 years
Under the umbrella of the most civilized.
Gentle Stroessener, kind to the Indian
His bullets were made for them
And they for the bullets.
One for the other, made for each other.
Others, the communal ghosts
He exorcised most civilly
Lifted them to lofty heights
And floated them in the blue
Up above the cool steam
Where patiently the doctors waited.
Some piranhas are gentle
Those Stroessenerised are gentler.
And his ghosts, now rampant are the gentlest.
Raveendran, this is fine poetry, yours depends about this person very humanely and sincerely... From Tsira.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Raveendran, this is fine poetry, yours depends about this person very humanely and sincerely... From Tsira.