afflicted by delusions
under the blanket of illusions
in a deep slumber
under-estimating the people
see this inferno rising
the people are speaking
the people will speak
they have always spoken
where are the listeners
that meekness taken for weakness
the seething tangible indignation
a non existent hidden hand blamed
the time for reckoning is nigh
that pool of patience running dry
breaking the walls of fear
look, that day is coming
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem