They never forget the violent twang,
relishing it with a shove of the head
deep into that tumultuous muck
from which no one comes out willingly,
Venting their illness into the helpless
they find fault in the Earth herself,
squirming out of her grasp as
she tries to keep them warm
Pray a river comes to wash away
the filth that has accumulated
about their suffering
Pray a silent rain falls to soften
the husk of pain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ah! You speak of what is all around...and so well said it is.