It's a festival of blood
A season of violence
Fear bubbles like a boiling pot
Rising like steam
Above chattering heartbeats
Light crawls back to hide
From the shock of terror
Under the blanket of night
Whispers of prayers tickle the air
To spur our faith, restore our innocence
Or perhaps purge the blood-stained land
With hearts so penitent
Tomorrow will be different
Tomorrow will be different
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem