War Poem

Bugles will sound
The end of war.
Banners will be pulled down
Soldiers will sheath their weapons
Wounded will return home.
In the morose streets
Of the charred towns
Children will kick a ball once again.
The dark clouds will
Give way to light,
And the sunflowers will bloom
Once again by the roadside.
Neither you
Not me
Might get to watch these.

And yet…
Speaking in soft, quavering whispers
An unfinished poem
Will live on.

(Translation & Original Poem by Ojhal)


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