snowy cold strode up the my Line
stiffened all that met my glare;
horses, men and lice.
Visited a forward post,
left them burning, ear to foot;
fingers stuck to biting steel,
toes to frozen boot;
Stalked on into No Man's Land,
turned the wire to fleecy wool;
iron stakes to sugar sticks
snapping at a pull.
Those who watched with hoary eyes
saw two figures gleaming there;
Hauptmann Katre, James old,
gaunt in the grey air.
Stiffly, tinkling spurs they moved,
glassy-eyed, with glinting heel
stabbing those who lingered there
torn by screaming steel;
surprisingly it the snow deed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem