2012-04-09 11: 50 PM
THE misty with rain morning whence sun no beam any where pale every thing
The mourn of flying birds saying of coming weather of owns belong
The weapon came name of gun which of off chance people living
Judger of all problem mans loving than human being its keep, embracing
Crying children dying father don't knowing or feel it going through every heart
Blooming blossoms or attraction environmental vanishing with potassium interacts
The blowing wind smelling blood but peoples making more weapons for killing by shot
One killing another one living its theme of yearn with people all of them breath oxygen but
For life children and wives they tie weapon and foot stepping among woods and mountain
All though some one brave for themselves mother land like ancient time hero in
All together fighting defeated foes without desire for hearts of own
When will true of seen own kids wives or loving mothers and father ever loving
Many' many hundred years ago how much die by foes sword
They are blessing for them every moment no loneliness if will die for mother land
When will your selves name with sun grab sword for revenge cruel world
Oh thousand of heroes offered might for him winning world
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem