You know about Vietnam?
You’ve been there?
It’s all a sham.
There was no war, no war, no view.
For you
the wallpaper was peeling.
Is? Where? There?
Still no war.
The plaster’s flaking off the ceiling.
Men
who dream away a war
with a barbiturate end
where they end
who participate.
Where and what was the war then?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem