Everyday the red sun rose
To find me dormant amongst the hills
Content enough that hate
Was merely to hate myself
But now to rise, to burn
To singe the life that on my ashes fed
And darken the sky for a generation
To make the purge that dissipates
Not until the red sun rises
And creates the jungle again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem