Ice and snow, lay before them,
In rags, a dirty band.
In front was the man, the tall one,
Wooden spear in hand.
Blood was seen, red on white,
Where he had gone.
Next, came one with hammer,
Crude axe of stone.
Blood, blood could be seen,
Where feet had lain.
Hunger, cruel hunger walked,
No game to be seen.
Last, came one with a metal can,
Where is the tank, it was here,
Yes, here in the pass!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem