On cold grey mountain - cold grey stone
Winter gales
Upon which I was born
Eloquent words cast to the winds
A mother's remembrances
A grandfather's chagrin
A sparkling fire gives rise to a feast
To slaying of dragons
To slaying of beasts
The bitterness of winter still beckons the spring
The days of my youth within a barbed wire ring
Sentries stood stoic, their weapons at the ready
As a childhood confined
And my observation steady
Engaging my capturers as father was lain
Returned from the battles from which he was slain
A flag draped his coffin
As we said our goodbyes
On cold grey mountain
Where his body still lies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem