Hollow winds, deserted playgrounds,
Gentle hearts;
S h a t t e r e d
Tiny little hands, trembling with fear,
Puffy eyes telling heart-rending stories.
Colors drained from the sky,
Broken butterfly wings S c a t t e r e d on the ground.
Rosy cheeks smudged with dirt,
Fake smiles painted on their faces.
Flowers withered away;
Clouds threatening to pour,
Hearts hardened with hate.
No one offers a helping hand,
Because love is impossible in this torn land.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What is the name of this torn land?