war poem 1

His army love massacre
He loves war,
Yet gifts come from him
And love flow ceaselessly.

(As if) I was in heaven
Every time he touched me
All my senses glowed
With all its magical charm.

But that could not last for long
For he loved war,
Adore meant a respite for him
From a frantic day of war.
What could this poor soul do?
Servant of his feet,
Water dropped from eyes,
Hindering the eyes to meet.

Oh dear! Cried I,
The king of my heart.
Can't thou wait for a moment?
At least till the tear drops dry.
So that my heart can sense
That you were here,
All by me, promising
That you will be back.
At the end of the day
again in my arms.
Can't thou make those false promises?
That you are mine.
And these wars mean nothing to you
In compare to my eyes.

But he was brave enough
Hard to be melt.
Quickly he dressed himself
Hurriedly before the eyes met.
As soon as he left, I realized;
I was just a fool to bind that fiery gale.
I should be proud of him,
For he was the lord;
Lord of his men,
Men who loved massacre.
Who could be the chief of such an army?
But the man who loved war.