Marble warriors stand tall and straight
on parade for eternity, all saluting the flag of a far off land.
Ghosts of wars past, a reminder of sacrifices made.
At the hall, a ghostly dance on Boxing Day
The lady is troubled and screams away
during the light, enlightenment follows, with quick wits of Cambridge fellows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem