I see a memory of mine distant,
Open your eyes to distance,
Have a danger to excite,
Eyes crawl, swaying and oscillating due to danger
Of guns, of gnats and over guests.
These guests are the pilots engineering their minds
To offend us in their slaughtering schemes.
By parachutes an attack is causing damage and injury
To a village of innocent blood.
By action of gunning, the guns are injuring us in other ways
And their slaughter is defence, just not offence.
My village needed my concern before a unique future began,
When a master believed in me, he must have destroyed me.
He said: Danger is hurting us deeply, so deeply that it hurt.
This I remember.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem