The hobbled stones, weary, rounded edgy
The prolonged birth pangs, of a woman.
Adamant are the egos trials to win,
The spoils are greater or greater the truth?
The bats, now hidden; now suckling blood.
The lambs were dragged at length, their throats,
Cut. Is mercy is to seek mercy, or stealing mandate.
The holy men in arms, snatched a right-what honor,
The brave women fought back, for their right.
They were sitting on the corner, in cold shadow,
He sits by the wall, awaiting midwife’s good news.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem