How blest the cohort of the depression
Our fathers lived in trenches
Then ten years without the Demon
Older brothers spilt their blood at Ardennes and Iwo
We watched.
We spent our lives
Cold and yet occasional hot
Warring with a doomed colossus
Silently we took the next generation
too excess and libertine pursuits
Now watching the decline of our happy world
We were and are the blest generation
As we disappear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem