Those who lie in the hands of blood
The evil kills the souls and the happiness in days
Years will fall in the clash
Of all no hope will be free in the mind of lies
Those who’s have no truth nor no lies
Will be a bug in the mindless body
Nothing falls nor doses it fly
The pure what we think can never be truth
The blood in the hands on the clod stuns rock
Could never be dry and worm
Just the lies killing on the in sides
Of good hearted people
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem