The perils facing people find us,
It is like cause for alarm, too much time.
The lair of peace divides us the same,
The epic of war is upon us, more than ever.
We are vulnerable to attack by the lovers,
A poisonous breed of loving attackers.
The insect bit a warding bite, a full wound on the skin,
Thankfully due to mild spit, a roof needed.
The perilous act of selfishness overtakes our skin,
The skin is risked by the other side.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem