Returning from the bloodless war
With our bones emaciated
Experiencing acrid smell of death.
A journey of colonization
Indirectly motivated
With intents of dignity.
The offshoot of ancestral fatricide
An annual celebration of a season.
A game of forceful sing' songs,
The song of other lands,
Knowing all our love and tears,
Yet placed on a meagre coin.
Attaire defines its beauty.
To some, the title
To the elites, the dignity
To the patriots, diligence.
Some sail to the shore,
Some on tempestous ocean,
Many forever gone,
All in defence of a 'paper'.
To the nation, labour market inclined,
To me a favour market i desire.
Igniting the present;
Brightening up the future,
To build a centre of excellence
That will be hailed forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem