Forty years after the war,
through out nation, which silent dew
the six- day war, but
Its reverberate, still in nation
thousands of lost their lives,
In barely 144 hours;
but the bloodier repercussions
forty year later, the blossoms of flowers,
spread above the nation in mist
and they were in initial hope,
suffered from humiliation;
the town, in six-day war
the moral treat of war;
flip sides of the coin on town
the narrow street, of blood
but not me, as some one bound
the moral treat, on doubtless future
the political treat, on less vision
an independent political voice
feeble, but barely audible
the aim to be end, but
the never ended war
for a dream to town.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'forty year later, the blossoms of flowers, spread above the nation in mist'...Man you are great! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! i love this poem i am going to add it as one of my favourite..keep writing..just keep bring out good writing..don't stop..