Time never stops
It goes on and on
And we all follow it
Trying to win over it
Taking a certain path
Nut is we leave
The drops of our ill wills
They sprout into
The hateful thorns
And the feet
Of our innocent siblings
Face painful bleedings
How can we so mean?
How can we make the path
Of our forthcoming generations
Full of agonies
We have to think deep
What we sow, so we reap
The thorns of our sins
They have to reap
With their wounded hands
And our world will be
The world of soring lands
Every sore in their soul
Will shout at us
In a revengeful and furious
Cries
And for this guilt
Our souls will never have peace
So let’s not leave
Any thorny seed
And make our paths
So lovely and flowery
That our children
Feel proud to follow us
With a soul
Cheerful and prosperous
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
cheerful and prosperous. good writing.