Poem_07/2015

I heard at dawn a bird over my head

Saying that we need to express

Our regrets and sorrows

That memory means to lament

That living means to mourn

Little plant that died from lack of water

In the name of Jeon Tae Il

That we’d count the men died for the Roman Empire

1,000,000 men and my grand-mother

Stories of sacrifices are made to console

Yet the girls and boys died before their teachers

We mourn and we cry

Even to that little something dead in my soul

Leave a Reply/Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s