cold and huddled,
lacking courage,
hungry- most of all just hungry,
fearing fever,
thinking of mother, that
likely she filled a pot with stew.
why the fighting?
why the danger?
why the death? such brutal war!
digging trenches,
thinking of mother, that
likely she filled a pot with stew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem