The hackneyed, old machinery targets
Those still willing to question the sickness.
The austere officialdom that drives it
Is incapable of comprehending
The consciousness of Mercy's warm kingdom.
For the blood hardens in its metal heart;
As it devours the devout resistance
Of fresh, fluid philosophies;
As its' hired media mercenaries
Extinguish Utopia's hopes and dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem