</>The smoke of the battle ground,
Only the fittest see the clear cloud,
Smell the aroma of the new life,
And Feel what the new air breeze.
Finally, The Battle won
The fear is gone from everyone
some laugh, some smile but others frown
at what the battle gain from all house
Victory of our time
The one our fathers could not have
The one we struggle in the past many times
And Now, Tightly hold in our hands
The History will be told
Why we put our hands unfold
And the good use of our cutlass and hoes
The future will be proudly told
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem