Vision walking on a wave,
The canvas sail to hold,
carrying glorious flag,
like a wind through haze—
Iron valour on wooden chest,
fire spirit in clay,
release the rage.
River rising up,
flowing through every lane—
No stone can withstand,
and pillars meant to crumble:
As revenge makes its way.
Shackles broken, fear conquered,
and threads woven,
Warriors we became—
Every grave crying
'victory or death'
Woes, tears, and gloom,
Through every phase—
Archer shot his arrow,
carrying flame,
like a revelation in its way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem