The white lowered
jubilation ceased
not as made
but as heard
they are shut to the world
left behind feasting...
the groom
a veteran of war is he
he lives in skirmishes
and expects it
Soon, he will make her cry,
not tonight
in the morning light
It's a hollow victory
with no struggle
no bloodshed
To another war he goes
to glory in struggles
not preempted victory
no lullabies for him
not soon
anyway
.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem