My Suzerain

He is my suzerain, a mighty blow to the heart,
Downcast is the training of my heart that masters
The lamentable tones, as they unfold with crying.
Callous inhuman works are committed by some gross devil,
Enraging us: it has no pity for the self or the contradictions.
Traumatic is the underlying illness it seems to inspire,
Into words they change that master the metres of exchange.
A ruthless brutal fiend is about with similar characteristics
Smiling at you, with vigour of memories, as they are memories.
To be incensed by this furious beast of brotherhood,
We must change the respect of a livid century.

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM