i met him in the hills ago
for he was a freedom fighter like me
he was shot in the river by the forces
of the dictator and his blood
flood all over the waters of the land
until the sea turned
crimson
until the sunset turned
scarlet
he did not die
he lives in the lives of more freedom fighters
and every sound of the gun
sounds his name
and every song of the rain
sings his life
and every end of the day
starts a new dawn
for this democracy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem