A heart filled with voracity
turns into a deaden meat.
Without emotions is a rock,
tough and hard not human.
Once power becomes an obsession,
by the man who turns into a monster.
Cold heartedly employs the demonic act,
just to satisfy his worldly lust and greed.
With a devilish mien he orders the kill,
all those who may challenge his autocracy?
For if his forefathers had made it their tradition,
Then, he may as well ordered the horrific bloodbath!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
there is always the end of everything, my friend. The power is not permanent. I know what you're talking about..and the whole nation mourns what happen