Unknown Field Poem by dhia abada
Unknown Field
This is the land where the battle did not befall,
where the unknown soldier did not die.
This is the field where plants joined hands,
where no monument stands,
and the only valiant thing is the sky.
Birds fly here without any sound,
unfolding their wings across the open.
No men killed — or were killed — on this grassland
blessed by neglect and an air so tame
that people honour it by forgetting its name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 7:15:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Who would have ever thought that a poem written about an empty field could bring so much feeling to the reader. I can't help but feel such sadness for this beautiful forgotten field. Strange how we remember and honor the places where so much tragedy has occurred and forget the pristine and beautiful. You would think we would want to forget about tragedy. Hmmm....interesting thoughts this poem has evoked!