Lifted from the proverbial pages
Of ancient times, insensitivity
Dares to threaten the healing of old wounds,
Blights the perspective of youthful, innocent minds.
Alas, with deeds of the past, it turns
Joy into mistrust, awakens some old
Chapters of indiscretion, of distrust.
How violently evil conceals its wicked guise.
Yet silent are some pages of evil, they
Neither gossip nor boast of their intent.
Instead, they scheme and plot maliciously,
Devoid of love and passion for the common man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem