All day a poem's been following me about
Poems are everywhere here
Hanging on banners, hiding in books
Marching from installation
One poem weeps to see the ravaged countryside
A charnel house of mud and rats and bones
Another poem's struck dumb
Before the Flanders' quagmire, its abyss
Before the blind eyes of the gassed and shelled
And here are the shells themselves
All present and correct
All new as ninepence
The poem sickens to see that artefacts survive
While dead men's sperm's unborn
Spent in the tombs that riddle battlefields
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem