Once it was a garden of roses,
now just a pool of red blood.
Once it was a clear stream,
now filled with human tears.
Once it was a happy town,
now reduced to wilderness and silence.
Once it was a school full of children,
now only decaying corpses remain.
Once they were houses,
now reduced to bricks and wood.
Once it was my land,
my beautiful land,
but after the bloodshed,
a mere memory in my mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem