Early April when they came, snow still on
the ground, green uniforms, the enemy buying
cakes in bakeries, people still shocked,
soldiers offer children chocolate
Uneasy truce, it isn’t going to last, even though
the enemy is baby faced. Shots in the night on
of them is ambushed, sent home in a body bag;
civilian men are rounded up, some are executed.
It’s going to get worse, hunger and darkness,
but the people know the scores, they have got
invaders and odious traitors to deal with, and
refuse to be vanquished: Occupiers Go Home!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem