Why they brought their indigenous merit
To bury the civilization by their own hand
Why they made other anarchist
To get the ruin of human dynasty
Why the extravagant heroism lumpenised the cockpit
Just to be slapped back to their own graves
Where rests other of other civilizations
No time to rectify the trauma of harboring the tail
Inside the black ocean of erasing every inch
No time to manipulate the trauma of final embankment
The surface lost its glory achieved by the genre her own
Why they brought their indigenous merit
To bury the last sign of species called human
A trance gradually stamping the mark of dark again
Ocean and sky
Land and below the depth
Gone with the intelligence of improvising ammunition!
Pranab k c
06/06/2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The answer is a line of your poem, dear Pranab No time to manipulate the trauma of final embankment. Voted 10.