Let the birds sing smiles to my heart...
Let the rest do their part.
Let the rest inch towards their blinding deafness of the whole,
practice of shame...
Let the rest, reclaim their page of blame.
Blame, thrust upon the innocent ones...
Like as to the bullets, of evil guns.
They, that be the sinning sons...
Rest only, upon their burning, Suns.
Ablazed of hate, and sinning past...
Eviled revelry, awakened by a darkened-blast.
Light from darkness into light to last...
We weave our own webs, that we cast.
For on the day of judgement, plays...
It will be too late, to usher upwards, our Heavened, praise.
Lord and God, we wish to change...
To all others, that are normal, this may seem, too strange.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautifully descriptive piece Michael...vivid and alive...