There are those people who
Sleep with a gun
Beside their bed.
Those who call themselves
Some sort of lawmakers.
But only when the
Nozzle of the gun
Is turned towards their own forehead
Do they realize and comprehend
Of what is
Piety, sympathy, patience...
Of what is sorrow, prudence...
Of what comprises of
Real God's laws.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem