Some species waste away,
While droughts, tsunamis, kill,
Some nooks, too hot to stay.
Now fertile fields turn gray
Trees die when gales grow shrill:
Rain forests pare away.
The future's made to-day
Will it be good or ill?
When will the death knell play?
To plastic junk a prey
The oceans drown in swill
And acid rains decay
Our world, in disarray
The future's made to-day
Will it be good or ill?
When will the death knell play?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem