They say we cannot make it to the mountain top
They whom we cheer heart to soul
Friends who became foes during the long lost nights
Yesterday they all hate us to ascot
Without measure, they scale us up for defeat
Even when at sunset they refused us rays
Hope comes with the rising at the horizon
When all the stars came from holidays
With new trumpets to sing our rising
We rise out of these shitty valleys
To a place of hope and fate
Never to stay at lowlands
We rise and shine for our light have come
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem