What can a pen at best be-trove
To paper stains that Ink has spread,
Though words we use to speak the truth
Ink dark thoughts inscribed in our head
Delicate paper soft and thin
Infected with thoughts from ink so plain
Purity struck from deepest love
Fierce emotion in blackened stain
I use this ink for you to know
The dreams and fears of deaths close kin
From ashen waters to battle fields
My time has come to bless my sin
For here I lay in blood soaked snow
Alone I write in with trembling hands
Left to die beneath this ink sky
My mind sees dreams of distant lands
So this is my story of dreadful woe
This is the tale that ink shall know
This is the life the words shall show
That in war I died in pitch black snow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem, contained in, heart felt story of dying soldier.