A ship sails under the bridge bound
for the far east past the island
in the bay
A few of us stand looking toward
land and the green hills
of the presidio
What awaits us in the islands
and on the beaches
we can anticipate
We talk about our chances
avoiding complete candor
about fear and death
Home before christmas
sound in body and mind
we can only hope
The spring sun shines
on the stucco barracks
of the green presidio
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem