“When there is Peace our land no more
Will be the land we knew of yore.”
Thus do our facile seers foretell
The truth that none can buy or sell
And e’en the wisest must ignore.
When we have bled at every pore,
Shall we still strive for gear and store?
Will it be Heaven? Will it be Hell,
When there is Peace?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem