These loud trumpets of imperial states
Sound so hollow when perpetually played
For all the fallen ones. I see them die
Silently in my dreams: orphaned from Time.
O trumpets blast and politicians praise But blood on hands can never be erased! Talk seems to be so cheap these days at least. O how long will war prevail over peace? !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem