For the communists, power springs
From the barrel of the gun,
Who said it,
When said he,
I cannot,
Whether a double-barrelled gun
Or not,
But said he,
A comrade turned into
A regimented cadre,
Levy-giving,
Preaching and practising,
Wresting power from,
Hatching plot,
Seizing power,
Conspiring against,
Doing a bloody revolution
For an arranged coup,
An overthrow of poewer.
There is nothing in mind
Barring violent demonstrations,
Bloody revolutions,
Bloody coups;
Factory lock-outs,
Seizures and closues
And massive shut-downs,
Adding to a chakka-jam,
Transport coming to a halt,
Meaning the wheel-jam,
Coming to a standstill.
The arms drop one by one
Adding to the stockpile,
Lenin giving,
Stalin giving,
Mao giving
Guns and pistols
To the rebels and revolutionaries
To fire on
And the movementeers and demonstrators
Gathering to give a shape.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem