Today our country comes home
From the worn and tired campaigns
Of hate, division and religion,
From the sabre drawn elections
And war and killings and death.
Elections have come and gone
Won and lost
A new child is born
He waves at the winner with a frenzy
And celebrates his own defeat
Peace which we thought vapour
Has precipitated
Spreads its wings and fans the citizens
And the rattling sabre sheathed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem