A silent night, laterns are lit,
just beside the fire she sits,
night was cold, yet she was bold,
waiting for those stories untold,
for morrow will the news unfold.
She dreams of the days bygone,
enchanted was she in his charm,
he proposed to her before he left,
to answer the war, ringing bells of hell.
She thought of those days on the farm,
when she was like a baby in his arms,
with a blushing face, she powdered her face,
But to face the powder, he left to his fate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem