As soldiers we have smelt the scorching flames
of man made hell,
witnesses to the effects of exploding
shell upon shell,
know the destruction that man can bring
only too well,
have stories to tell of a kind of hate,
when mere boys are thrown to the care of fate.
[Reference: "Proof" by Czeslaw Milosz.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem