The grass will sway to either side
And never be done at all
Through justice of equality glide
With every aspiring call
And when the breeze will breeze it out
With every spoken whisper
It shall then swing and hang about
And get its stems crisper
Each love song in the stillness of air
Is for our life's mystery
So much is to finish in freedom here
And make it coming history
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem