Shot down at dawn
The dew still plucking at the mud.
The lions stare
Defiant and proud,
Half risen sun,
Burning in his eyes,
No fear curled up,
Behind black pupils,
Chin held high
Neck stretched taught,
First morning mist
Pulling at his boots,
Like the first wisps
Of heaven,
Young boys hands
Held calm behind his back
To give his life
For king and country.
Executed at dawn
The dew still plucking at the mud.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good tight imagery. The concise lines show a lot of discipline for one so young.