El Salvador: 1980
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Crushed flowers of flesh and blood lie scattered
Across war - torn streets. O the poets and priests
Are silenced as the hawks descend in the night:
A terrible beating of wings cracks the skies!
Modern killing machines now cross the border.
Some say they were made in America:
Where great riches are built on the rest of
The world's poverty. Things never change.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş