I would that I were on a battlefield.
The heart is much safer there.
I would gladly don sword and shield,
Or dig in for violent onslaught without care,
If I could but avoid one piercing of my heart
By the thought of the loss of you from the start.
I know that the horrors of war are no small matter,
That limbs are torn and flesh is burnt,
But I do not believe it compares to the shatter
Of the heart broken and bleeding as red currant.
No, I prefer a sword’s thrust to the loss of your love.
No other wound can sting like pain from such a horrid shove.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great work. Keep up the great work!