(The Battle of Iwo Jima, Feb.1945)
The lull, the end of violence
Their eyes dart everywhere
The dread, uneasy silence
Hangs so heavy in the air
The smoke is clearing, stretching thin
Loud echoes fade away
That pounding is their hearts again
First time discerned today
The lack of noise is deafening
They hardly dare to breathe
The silence just grows maddening
Their stations they won’t leave
The stillness sweeps like rushing wind
Across the battlefield
The enemy has met its end
Their positions they can yield
Now audible, the moans are heard
The medics run to tend
To troops and loss so undeserved
And the stench of death again
A grossly miscalculated win
And the tragic stench of death again
(2008)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem