One understands the relentless purges of the horizon,
It resists our call after the worst nightmare or dream,
Offering support to it creates disharmony on the globe.
One understands the joining of such armies oftentimes,
Resting is the business of the whole crusade inside,
One created a child from the earth and named it a soul.
This speech from the proficient ones is relic and artefact,
Frowning on the glamour is of the speeches and monologues,
Dramatic openings resist us as much as the horizon;
Global wars produce the leaders of a registered few,
Existing makes me reduce the proclaimed honest men,
One must understand a reading from the awkward commander.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem