We think if we purge the evil,
With the worthless vanity of wars.
Unwinnable, undeniable, unsustainable.
We will gain only hollow echoes, (of past traumas.)
In paper-thin propaganda
Stem the blood of innocent victims'
God said, 'revenge is mine.'
Man assumed the mantle.
(Through momentary tiresome brutality.)
And was lost for all time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem