He picks up the phone and puts it down
Then he speaks in a low voice with a frown
His wife sees the look of shock on his face
Go to war or live a life of disgrace.
The blood spills like beads of sweat off his head
He hears the crying of souls from the dead
Smell of death raises from beneath the ground
but he is lying down arms and feet bound
why must good men leave home and go to fight?
It seems as if god does this out of spite.
Now the baby growing in his wifes womb
will now have to visit his fathers tomb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem