tell the bells to please stop ringing;
halt the horns so cease they cry;
forbade the watchmen to go on singing,
'from the lake, from the hills, from the sky,
all is well, safely rest, god is nigh.'
so i say and so i say to stop!
it is madness to confuse the young with lambs:
bloody, butchered, and murdered for naught,
but 'the stars gleaming ray softly send,
'to thy hands we our souls, lord, commend.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem