turning wheel....
newspaper clipping epitaphs,
dead bodies whisper
in the grasses turned brown...
water stagnant, stinking
with blackened greed....
children's hands severed,
lined up beneath the altar,
sacrificed to the gods
of an angry age...
even the trees weep,
and the mountains shudder!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem