Hush'd be the camps today,
And soldiers let us drape our war-worn weapons,
And each with musing soul retire to celebrate,
Our dear commander's death.
No more for him life's stormy conflicts,
Nor victory, nor defeat--no more time's dark events,
Charging like ceaseless clouds across the sky.
But sing poet in our name,
Sing of the love we bore him--because you, dweller in camps, know it truly.
As they invault the coffin there,
Sing--as they close the doors of earth upon him--one verse,
For the heavy hearts of soldiers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lyrical, yet somber commemoration of the sudden death of the commander - honoring the death of Lincoln. This poem conveys the love, respect, and mourning of the troops.