The trumpets sound, it's the time
That I was looking forward to—
The manufacturers of this coup
Will pay for all their evil crimes.
These bloody wars, these bloody crimes,
These sham elections will not stand,
This time, it's different this time—
They cannot hide their bloody hands.
The truth is written in the blood
Of many innocents who died—
Not for the country, not for God,
But profits, ignorance and lies.
These lies will no longer sell—
The people will no longer buy,
It's their wars, it's their hell—
Only this time, it's them who'll die.
The time's ran out, the die is cast—
The beast is once again released,
What's now is now, the past is past—
Death comes to those who stood for this.
Sing, poet, sing—these are the times,
Let people rise and witness this—
The truth is out of the crimes
Of those who preach that war is peace.
They will be choking on their lies,
They'll go mad, they'll lose their sight,
And one by one they'll drop like flies,
Blinded by God's impartial light.
Then all the people will rejoice
And share the earth with dignity,
And I will hear their voice
Of love and peace and liberty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem