Somewhere even today
Prudence is on the bed of arrows,
Letting imprudence fill its quivers
With the arrows of hatred
Before the game of dice,
Justice is then mortgaged;
Law and order is undressed;
Responsible responses fall
In the deep silence;
Helplessness sits blindfolded
In favour of blind selfishness
What can I do?
Let me go to the war zone
With my conscience guiding the chariot,
With the only healing kit:
The Akshayapatra of love
Let the inexhaustible vessel of love
Feed the warmongers
To enrich their humanity
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem