His eyes record all the boring details
like lances in the hands of Tarkovsky,
His eyes have seen in thirty years
What a whole nation sees in thousand years.
Where does go with his eyes?
How can he run away from a memory full of tears and blood?
He has images
That fill all the walls of the world with death notices,
Stabs in the back
Can make a sieve out of the sky,
And humiliation
Which a whole life of glories cannot erase.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
like lances in the hands of Tarkovsky, How can he run away from a memory full of tears and blood? humiliation. really very great poem. in short verses you have brought out the cruelty of war and terror. blood, so very nice. yu have great imaginative power. write more and more and give went to all your sad memories. it has a catharsic effect.. thnk you dear poet. tony