Deep in the forest the battle raged on.
Canons roared and shells exploded.
The Confederate flag was torn to shreds
From enemy fire.
Its bearer was lying near a jagged rock,
Motionless with bullet wounds to the stomach and chest.
The sargeant stooped over him to feel his pulse,
But there was none.
Only listlessness and lifelessness.
The flag bearer had not been able to see
Through the smoke and haze.
Could not have possibly known
That he had been killed by his own brother.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem