I see the line of soldiers marching towards the fence
With all the vim and vigor of men in their prime
Moving on the double quick.
Yet they walk right past me
Without batting a single eye
It's as if I wasn't there;
For I wasn't, in their time.
As they move away, I think I see,
One single man turn back.
He raises his hand in smart salute.
I start.
He has the face of my father.
A tie of blood, remembered,
From a man died long ago.
From a span of over a century
I bow my head in silent prayer,
For the soul of a man I knew in the shadows of an eerie night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem