Soldiers march en masse at dawn.
recapture the city with forces strong.
How came it all to be this way?
Someone said something, did something
they shouldn't have that day.
Now, the people die as before...
as before and before.
What sense does it make when the building shakes?
what foolish moves some people make.
Taking lives like flowers
wasting treasure and numbered hours
How and why is besides the point now.
Soldiers stand, lay and scream...
the child cries his immortal plea.
Screams not drowned out by the noise of gun.
As he screams, 'Mommy, mommy...'
And she screams out,
'My son, my son...'
April 1986
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem