Hope, seems to be on vacation
Truth has left the Planet,
We can't find any nation
Desired, to stand up for,
Applaud with admiration.
By Whirlwind social syndrome,
So much is changed and swallowed,
So little good is followed,
What will be left of Us?
Of Nations?
Come tomorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem