A War that may have drifted into yesterday,
but has left behind memories of dear friends
and scars for those left to recall.
The Trumpets sounds and those who heard
left the battle as hero's to us all.
For those who remain yesterday's war goes on,
when in the minds, its recalled.
A war that drifted into yesterday lives on,
until the Trumpet sounds and the
warrior of Yesterday's wars are called home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem