Hear the sound of retreating trumpets
in the distance where they play.
The battle is over now,
but will commence again another day.
The battlefield is strewn with bodies
where the old and young fell
on a field where two armies clashed
and now among the dead the dying moan and yell.
3 July 2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem