The Gift In Wartime
I offer you roses
Buried in your new grave
I offer you my weeding gown
To cover your tomb still green with grass
You give me medals
Together with silver stars
And the yellow pips on your badge
Unused and still shinning
I offer you my youth
The days we were still in love
My youth died away
When they told me the bad news
You give me the smell of blood
From your war dress
Your blood and your enemy's
So that I may be moved
I offer you clouds
That linger on my eyes on summer days
I offer you cold winters
Amid my springtime of life
You give me your lips with no smile
You give me your arms without tenderness
You give me your eyes with no sight
And your motionless body
Seriously, I apologize to you
I promise to meet you in our next life
I will hold this shrapnel as a token
By which we will recognize each other
(This poem is published in high school literature textbooks in the US)
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