Foolish kings, foolish kings 

Stupid American presidents 

Johnny, now I can't remove the foam 

I can't bear the curse of trust 

I can only wash the blood off your hands 

I can't wash the murder, I can't wash the cruelty 

Crime, malice, hatred, evil, sin, lust, oppression

Ah... I can't wash anything 

Forcibly swallow me 

You think history can be washed 

But, I can't wash away even a single moment of stain 

With what enthusiasm, with what lofty intentions 

I was born, that— 

I will make the human world dry, clean and beautiful in every way

From the Mesopotamians of yesterday to the Nepalis of today,

I will give freedom from dirt

I kept washing the dirt of clothes and bodies with devotion

And, thus people began to believe

Soap can wash anything

Little by little they started to live with a mountain of dirt in their hearts

I say I will wash the mouths of malnourished children

The serpentine breath of tears on their cheeks

But, after a meal of eighty-four dishes, I am washing the hands of some fat sheikh, belching.

I say I will wash the hands of ninety-nine percent

The dark, twisted limbs

But, the radiant faces of the one percent 

I am washing 

I say I will erase the blue stains of the suffering 

But, the abundant evidences that are piled up in the weapons of the suffering 

I am erasing 

I am tired

While rubbing-rubbing to wash away the deceit of the deceivers 

While rubbing-rubbing to wash away the sins of the guilty 

It is a misadventure to mix which oil, which alkali