A scream that refuses comfort
For the culture of our history’s sake
Our parents dream for us
Unspoken
But intimated in the fierce love of devotion
Wearing hands ancient, having wrought
The token hardships of love
Fingers worn to the bone of obligation
Dedication on a scale of sacrifice from denial
To inoculation from the demon past
The abject and the bitter blot
On all objects of comprehension
No wonder our immunisation didn’t take
Its nourishment starting from a still birth
Progress bolting as disfigurement took shape
We become a sparkling antithesis
Generational anarchy as chief lobbyist
In the undemocratic governing of the self
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem you wrote it powerful and i like it, well done Mr Noel