Conflict everywhere in the fighting streets
Applauding with erected fingers call
Gypsy dancing in all the fighting fleets
Feeling beyond any doubt could change all
Stancing and whooping with numbness hooray
Social order in total disarray
Without fulfillment re-satisfying
Faces are turning, never stop crying
Yowling fierce, until the deadness excites
Tis the fire, that is say, the jubilee
Fuels the all screeching spirited lights
Thinking upon the way things it should be
In the end, the challenges they shall face
Won't run away, but instead they shall chase
© daniel miltz
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem