Relentless rattle of battle all around,
shards and shrapnel abound.
Under a battered tree
a lost robin, with a wounded leg,
hobbles on, scavenging, rummaging
picking up twigs,
frantic eyes searching for her lost world.
Amid the roar and crash of belligerence,
the rumble of troops,
gaping shell holes, and lusty war cries
she crumbles, frightened,
sighting
a pair of hawks circling overhead.
Undeterred, a skylark pours forth
a lyric of ecstatic jubilation,
filling the gaping shell holes.
The robin also brightens, gearing up
to rebuild her shattered nest.
The rattle of battle prattles on,
a babbling incoherence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem