One More Hill Poem by michael Smajda
One More Hill
On crimson-stained battlefield,
Lay the wounded and the dying.
The smell of death perfumed the air.
Some survivors sat there crying.
The able-bodied dug the graves.
Those who could said a prayer or two
As they lowered the valiant souls
Beneath flags of red, white and blue.
America's brave, they, truly, were.
Whose only selfless aim and will
Was to try to bring an end to war
And lasting peace to on more hill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/11/2025 4:06:17 AM # 1.0.0
