Ruthless hatchet of iron-hands
may slay many selfless, upright heads
but their martyrdom will surely
sing a joyous anthem and their progeny
will boldly dare any death-knell.
We can turn a flood-light off
and blind all neon-street towers
but who`ll blindfold the helium father?
So many pilgrims perish
in half-way willful acid-test;
so many wishes hide in the ozone sphere
but their faith has banyan leg and growing arms!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem