Your prayers seem slow to ripen,
But the fields of ears do hear.
The warrior of change is riding
Windhorse, Great Garuda,
Repressions end is near.
The aggressors face so clearly lit
by fiery torches on hillsides stand,
These withering blooms
never lost from sight,
Gesars flower in their hands.
15th Feb 2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem