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One nation Two crowned Kings War and peace Three languages A million enemies One that alone stands With no signals they strike Snatching the treasures of the other two meek languages But with sad eyes as one uncomforted, They fold their arms and weep And wearied with sorrow and moaning For sins no bleating victim can atone, They seek help abroad And sweet long lips with tears and kisses fed. Black were their garments With faces red as stone And at the feet of this nation was marked a broken stone Which sent up dove-like lilies And terror screams for weeks Now at their sight, my heart bleeds lit up in flames

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

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