Time is always
wasted in our local
wars
money spent not on
food
but mortars and
bullets
lives most of all
wasted for nothing
she says
'this greed for money
and power'
the roots of
violence still unfathomed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To Plato, the poets are that root. Thus, he decried, for the sake of a peaceable republic, we must be holocausted (exact translation from original Greek: burnt offering to the gods) . I have come to agree. So, I seek such a death, my own, through my poetry. I write in hopes of one day being offered up, holocausted, for the peace they need and I can never give them. Your poem suggests, to me at least, a similar flame flickers within you. This poem isn't good, or bad, it is noble and human.