Esoteric lines in rhythmic forms where souls blend
Divisive men twist tongues keeping the broken to build their stairways
Poetic scrolls rolled, then by midnight the Sun dawns
Spirits seeking evolution on material platforms
How they die within the lustful insomnias
Sanza Brew the muse to furrow lanes where the plot shall flow
Until then, we will still be our fathers' children
Then, we cried in fragile brains
Now, we know better so
That apples only fall next to the stems
Unless we thought rats gave birth to humble cats
When the rainbow popped from the fertile skies?
But blossom,
Still against the purgeful talks
The beginning knows our greatness
The Sun refuels our hardcore spirits
What then, shall defeat we?
The mocks,
The bullets,
The cages,
Cotton's thorns,
And the hate, those we survived
Yet, to the Sun we still are beautiful
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem