Life gets annihilated, death returns
'Tis war- cause of moaning for their children's death
Of bereaved mothers upon well-arranged urns, -
So all brave souls rewrite history on heath,
With their trembling hands grasping bloody ink;
'Tis why piteous eyes of history ever blink.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting poem. Sad but brutal image of mothers mourning the wasted lives of their children to the atrocities of war. So well written and honest. Nicely done.