The dictator listens
In the roar of tanks
The melody of music
Refreshes his lungs
The smell of gunpowder smoke
Brings sleep to him
The sound of explosions
The dictator eats
Sings
And smiles
When the dictator smiles
People gather
On maps
In search of some Tibet!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem