No Flowers, No Doves Poem by Leo Yankevich
No Flowers, No Doves
When we entered the burning city
charred corpses greeted us.
A child’s hand dangled from a scorched tree
and the twisted wreckage of a bus
mocked the stillness of the sky.
Gunner gagged, Ski scratched his head,
neither understanding why
he had to liberate the dead.
Phew, he doesn't pull his punches does he. But war is just like that, and does those things to people who don't know what it is all about. He shoud be the Poet Laureate of war.
Difficult to say much about a poemlikethis except to murmur inadequately words about perfection and thanks...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 1:03:27 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Though this is probably true you no doubt seem to have a flair for this type of poetry, which is to your credit, excellent.