Another hot day
he said
How hot
I said
Hot enough to fry eggs on asphalt
he said
No asphalt in sight
I said
About then the mortars started
and the rice paddy erupted
with blackclouds and falling dirt
Just another bleeding day in the Nam
he said
I got today and a wakeup
I said
Lucky bugger
he said
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I guess if you were still breathing you were doing real good. I can really feel the atmosphere and environs of the place and the conditions in this writing.