'What mean ye, that ye beat my people to pieces, and
grind the faces of the poor? saith the Lord God of hosts.'--Isaiah.
What mean ye, that ye bruise and bind
My people? saith the Lord;
And starve your craving brother's mind,
That asks to hear my word?
What mean ye, that ye make them toil
Through long and bitter years,
And shed, like rain upon your soil,
Their blood and bitter tears?
What mean ye, that ye dare to rend
The tender mother's heart?
Brothers from sisters, friend from friend,--
How dare you bid them part?
What mean ye, when God's bounteous hand
To you so much has given,
That, from the slave that tills your land,
You keep both earth and heaven?
When at the judgment God shall call,
Where is thy brother? say,
What mean ye, to the Judge of all,
To answer on that day?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem