Like grains spewn from a sower’s hand
We helpless refugees like chips
Were herded onto cold, gray ships
To distant countries, foreign lands
Then dropped on salty sands
Black fingers of the plague of war
Touched villages remote and kind
Abruptly leveled them with gore
Gripped gloried towns with bombs and mines
Until the terror drained its cup
With nothing left to pour
Then, when the dust and shrapnel shells
Were covered with Spring rain and grass
The ones in charge found refugees
Uprooted from their homes en masse
And they attuned to freedom’s bell
It took some time before the hordes
Began to have a feeble hope
Realizing that their newfound lands
Were peaceful, strong, with helping hands
So after years learning to cope
They saw their roots had been restored
Like grains spewn from a sower’s hand
We helpless refugees like chips
Were herded onto cold, gray ships
To distant countries, foreign lands
Then dropped on salty sands.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Powerful piece, 'Like grains spewn from a sower's hands', so strong ' They saw their roots had been restored' Liilia an amazing story of refugees leaving their home place and trying to take root in a new land faraway!