we are from the east
our clothes are saffrons
we smell incense
you are from the west
on metal clothes and
piercing lances
you bring to us the sound
of our horrible machines
we are amazed how we
see your power that sounds
like thunder
death tolls in numbers increasing
we want to like all of you
but for now we can't
we are still burying our dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem