You saw through the dark skies
You walked through the rough ways
You heard the low cries
You felt the pain deep inside
You lied on the hard ground
You bore flowers into the evil hearts
Your eyes reached every blood-covered nook
Your mind recognized every image
Of your loved ones before your last breathe
You dwelt among the bitterest of all
You spoke bravely among everyone at the time
When they were afraid
You controlled the hardest when you were young
You wrote to your family in the hour of rush
You fought when your eyes couldn’t see properly
With everyone around you pointing fingers at you
You ended every pain around you
When you yourself were in pain
You smiled behind the bars of your defense
In the battle field on the day of your birthday
You saw your closest pass by you in front of your eyes
When you couldn’t reach them
You recognized everyone and everything
But they say that you couldn’t be recognized
And still, after you were gone
Your only loved ones searched for you
And you being not found
They buried your memories into their hearts
And these memories of such a young soldier
Are and never will be forgotten.
In the memory of John Kipling[Aug.,1897, England-Sep.27,1915, France]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You bore flowers into the evil hearts nice meditative poem, nice portrait 10