The child clasps
her father's hand
in hers
leading him
on to where the ice creams are.
He laughs
pulled along by her
eagerness.
A giant
lead by a dwarf.
But now
he must lie down
in the posture
of his death
as if he slept
the sky
a blue so still
not a breath
of wind
disturbs
the terrible howling
a child
looking for her hands.
The bomb
has done
its duty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Its a very shaking piece... the words hang on my lips, unable to fall, i feel tongue-tied. So sad...