A book we read in class one summer
when summer sun and crack of bat
distracted us from assigned reading
and the discussions we held indoors
was written about a wounded soldier
who gradually comes to realize
the extent of his injuries
and prefers death
Grim stuff for high school kids
used to running and catching
baseballs - stretching ourselves
physically and mentally
on baseball diamonds in the sun
so that confinement in a bed
for the rest of one's life
struck a chord of fear
and we would have rather died, too!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Except for the title, which is deceiving, this is a finely written piece of prose that could be expanded and enhanced extensively. I don't find anything to criticise in the writing. The message is clear; which is, by far, the most important thing. This is tho only piece of yours that I have read, I will have to read more. GW62