To commandeer death is a notice,
Underneath the ship's awe is a polite one,
For this nearer war is the crest and trough,
A sea of them will undermine us tonight.
The death of some men is too much,
One accuses another notifier,
Once the obligations have mattered to us.
To see another agony is then a night
And not a day.
Tonight the sadness of the world
Was senseless,
Little to do with men of alacrity
And adventure.
Death is the hurt of a century,
This period in time is a cloth
To bind the bodies of energy
And the bears of the wild.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem