Oh, Hunger!
What war you fight in me?
My lower region grumbles like the armoured tanks of World War 2.
Cease, i beseech thee.
Hold thy fire,
For i raise a truce flag,
To food i march
Be still.
For its said, a soft answer turneth away wrath,
So does food persuade thee from thy anger.
Hunger, a dictator King that none can overthrow.
Worse than Hitler, effective than bombs.
Who have not seen a wall crumble before thee?
Which beseiged nation bow not its knee to thee?
Not even the strongest!
Yet, i defy thee.
Not with a challenge,
But with the subtle weapon of food i defeat thee.
Even if for a while,
Victory is Victory.
Nothing is ever absolute.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem