The rains have not stopped
Our land is not barren
We are very hard working
We go to bed empty
In cold, on floods
We are relatives
We speak the same tongue
'Thus far you shall come'
We so tell each other,
'So much you may do'
So much we came and did
We traded, we partied
till one who hates love rose
Said we are alliens
On the land we purchased
There we went burning our houses
Burning our yields and our children
We cry to him after gracing his army
He calls us fools as he feasts on our portion
And we eat the crumbs that fall from his table
Indeed fools, a wretched generation
For we still follow his lead
Like a sheep led to the slaughter house
Though we know it, yet we assume
That all will be well as we feed him
Open up your eyes before you sleep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem