Barrel bombs fall like summer rain
From a clear blue sky,
Causing suffering and pain,
Causing kids to die.
People flee a war-torn home,
You can hear them scream.
And to Europe thousands roam,
A relentless stream.
Unseen from high altitude
Death comes silently
With absolute certitude
Life led violently
All that's left a shattered ground,
A broken landscape;
Nothing left for them to pound,
Nowhere to escape.
No one to turn to,
Nowhere can be found a friend,
No one comforts you
When will all the suffering end?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is a brutal thing to force families abandon their home and country. Who pays any attention to them? Who helps? Who is a friend? Who can comfort them?