tragedy struck last night on the tv screen.
there's no turning away from this conclusion.
wings of the age bring war. a phoenix scream
chills blood. our children inherit confusion.
the mass mess has not been plugged
nor berlin wall in our brain lifted siege;
our future by mad sciences is drugged;
Vine infected by anarchies of mad age;
the sacred by profane has been defamed;
minds harnessed to mindless patterns;
the quality of mercy has been strained;
our center lost in centrifugal motions.
tragedy is the climax, not end of life,
but mindless tragedy is fate of strife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Tragedy is the climax.The end good or bad is at the hands of the man.Mindless tragedy occurs by fate. The new generation is a confused lot. Wonderful!