Never meant to hurt the guy;
Even through we had brawled
a time or two;
He had a weak time expressing displeasure,
Short of fisticuffs,
Exercising in the mud;
I was the sort to make an equation of it,
Hammer home the blatant stupidity of war.
Yet I find that when adversarials are opposite in their attitude toward what is real and what is a grand delusion,
Blows will be exchanged as frequently as the wind shifts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem