Across the lake, 
dead looking for me, 
cries buried alive; 
this grave can't hold me.
I waited long; 
Lord show me the way: 
Hold my hand, 
you will be released, 
child soon will it end; 
rise of dead.
The trumpet roaring, 
army of dead conquering, 
sky showering flames: 
A judgement declared, 
The revenge of dead.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    