There they stand,
Incensed and prepared to fight.
Seeking to continue a division in conflict.
When the air of that has been deflated out of sight.
And there they are,
Ready to ignite.
With not a reason at all,
On the horizon that sheds...
Upon them light that makes this alright.
What is it they really wish?
To be left alone initiating...
Their own disturbances,
Inflicted by their own habitual fits?
What is it that they really wish?
An approval that announces them...
Authorized to conduct,
Such a destructive dementing mental sickness...
With an entertained audience witnessing it?
Is this what it is that is wished?
Since nothing else that has been done,
Makes any sense to convince with a confidence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem