from the mountains near Hiroshima
where gentle faces now bloom,
memories of a silent night
slip from a silent room
on the softest of slippers,
as innocent as snow,
into purified air
while the Japanese winds blow
to the far ruins of Mariupol
where innocent citizens died!
when a tyrant said he was peaceful
but mothers knew that he lied;
the children are hungry;
the old folks cried:
their shadows have fallen
and remain by their side.
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