The War Works Hard Poem by Dunya Mikhail

The war
How serious
and active
and skilful
It is!
From early morning
It wakes up the sirens
sends ambulances everywhere
swings corpses in the air
slides stretchers to the wounded
summons rain from the eyes of mothers
digs in the earth
shovels many things from under the ruins
some lifeless glittering things
others pale and still throbbing
It brings more inquiries
to the minds of children
entertains the gods
by shooting missiles and fireballs
through the sky
It plants mines in the fields
harvests holes and air-pockets
urges families to emigrate
stands with the clergymen
as they curse the devil
(The wretched one, his hand is still in the fire. It hurts)
The war is relentless, day and night.
It inspires tyrants to deliver long speeches
gives medals to generals
and themes to poets
It contributes to the industry of artificial limbs
provides food for flies
adds pages to the book of history
achieves equality between victim and murderer
teaches lovers to write letters
trains girls to wait
fills newspapers with stories and photos
beats drums to celebrate every year
builds new houses for the orphans
keeps coffin-makers very busy
pats the shoulders of gravediggers
draws a smile on the leader's face.
The war works very hard
without precedent
yet nobody praises it.