I stand on the ramparts of an ancient fort
In a fleeting vision, all of past.
The galloping tones of a war
Echo from a scene, quite afar.
The sound of fury diffuses in the air,
The flying bullets settle to hues and cries.
The clamor of swords finally dies
As, many lives pant and silently pray.
Away from their kith and kin
They are in their dying moments.
An endless trample is heard,
At homes, depthless sighs follow.
For a king’s greed and power
Women became widows!
For a ruler’s stamp and mark
Children became orphans.
In silence, in these rustling winds,
I walk on these sprawling grounds.
The king is gone, the empire fallen
But the galloping tones are strong and very clear.
Doves twitter around picking grains,
Lovers move around in a happy frame.
From the turret hangs an old bell
And solemn reflections envelope me –
‘For whom does it toll?
For whom does it toll? ’.........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem