There was once a saviour rarer than gold,
Who emerged from ancient prophecy's dust.
He was a voice for the voiceless: a bold
Angel man who defied deep injustice.
His Truth was too much for this broken world:
Where each man is scarred by the mark of Cain.
And so he was condemned to brutal death.
In every epoch, it's sadly the same.
Political elites prevail in the end;
The consciousness raisers are always martyred.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem