Utter mercy,
Three men thirsty.
The only survivors,
Hundred dead flowers.
United they stand,
Reach to the deep blue.
Lost in thoughts
and vivid drawings of skulls.
Where art thou,
Must heed now,
To a dark enclosed path.
Still lies he.
In the baking sand,
Meet the demand.
Too much for thee to handle.
At the end of this life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem