If we cry for peace and remain in our houses
War will come
Peace is earned and not won
Show peace and do not cry for it
And its rootlets will grow
Into our hearts and this plant will blossom there
The war we fight in our our hearts
Is more mortal than that with guns
For the gun gets its instructions
From a wicked heart and its direction
By a careless hand
The boundary we set on land could be shifted
But that built in our hearts deeply immobile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem