Before she left home
That dark and deary night
She had cried sore of ache
Biting away her private belly
'Let me stay at home today' She begged
One day's leave was surely no crime
To lay in bed and wellness gain
'Tomorrow I will recover the losses'
The handicapped priest of Mammon
Like greedy Balaam proved too blind
'The God of profit must not starve' He barked
A rabid dog thirsty for bloody gain
With aching belly banging big
And the priest praying the gods
'journey mercies for sick Dana
And the returns of healthy baskets of gold'
She spread her wings for doomland.
Our eyes never met again.
Fiery flames of fire fully filled
The field where her broken body burnt;
Clothing the Sunday red and wet
With soulful tears.
So our dear Dana died
A bloodied sacrifice
For a godless greedy god.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem