the song of the mill
sawing through timber
the owl at midnight
that I still remember
the boom of a shotgun
across a field
the death of the meek
who carry no shield
the terror of riders
deep in the night
the snake in the garden
that fills us with fright
the blood and carnage
the produce of battle
so many cut down
and treated like chattel
I wish to go back
to the song of the mill
the owl in the woodland
and peace on the hill
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Scenes like these still existing in our youth's age in U S too?