The merriment of children's loveable laughter is always universal,

Also in this Cambodian field the children heat up their skipping hair

Under the fervent sunshine and with the energy that is always wanting to be burnt.

They run around, giggle for nothing, and say words only they can understand.

Be careful

Look down at the ground when you run

Don't touch anything you don't know

- They don't recall what their Mums said -

Unfortunately children's curiosity is also universal,

And one finds something shining on the ground; and she crouches to pick it up.

The sky blackens, birds blare, and the ground trembles,

As the pitiless blast hurls the children into the air.

YOU, mined hatred, surely did your job so well.

Of course that was your job to explode unpredictably,

Not caring who you hurt. And this time it was just the children.

But do you really know what it meant?

Will the children run again when they don't have legs?

Will they cuddle puppies again when they don’t have arms?

Will they smile again when they are dead?

The tearful Mums seem not to have the answer. YOU tell them mined hatred.