i walk softly
among crucifixions
where the vanquished
like stands of timber
bless my footsteps
only to cool
the centurion's brow
his chest filled
with the might of rome
i am called builder
who blows
the hope of life
among the petals
and the thorns
and i scatter cities
to angry skies
leaving twisted
mounds of steel
i am the gently
wailed psalm
that wanders
dark olive groves
and come the dawn
soft blue over gray mountains
i bring the breathless
unrelenting
ceaseless chant of war
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem