While on patrol
I found a buffalo’s empty cranium
left by hyenas, jackals,
vultures and other carrion eaters
and the section camped
and made a small fire right next to it.
We heated some food from our ration packs
in a fire bucket, killed the fire,
spreading sand over the burning tablets
and slept under a starry sky
with weapons close at hand
and the next morning enemy terrorist tracks
were treaded right next to my head
where they had passed without noticing us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem