Gunpowder smelling all around
Covered with burnt ash and painted grey,
No trace of green is there
Doesn't even come in nightmares...
Every night dreams of the moving dead
people have forgotten what nature says.
Light flashes in the blinking eyes
Insects keep eating inside the head.
The sound of rattles rings in the ears
People, all are crazy and fear of war.
Someone has forgotten who are they
Some have left, not known, what would say.
Everyone is running on unnatural numb
People die by the sound of bomb and explosion.
Beautiful woman gives birth,
Atmosphere; on the gunpowder pile,
Grey is his form.
The army quenching their needful thirst, one by one.
Crying silently out of the whispering lips.
Mother gives birth, from a heart breaking ship,
Child born in an unknown land, burnt or fry
looks surprised at the crowd of the dead.
Army's youthful needs fulfilled, and they have been.
Now, machine everywhere
Even into the woman, that has seen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem