People used to live there,
Live and laugh and sing.
Now many a man has died there,
And death is lingering
Amid the bricks and mortar
That used to be a home
But dead men need no shelter
And neither can he roam.
So the scorched countryside
Means nothing now to him.
And the place where he has died
Will hold his bones in grave dim,
Unmourned by his friends,
They too have met their separate ends
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for caring Terry, many don't give a toss...