I have no home, no fatherland,
I am a soldier with no weapons,
No worldly goods can tie me down,
My paths lead me into distances grey.
Trenches are my bed,
The starry skies of the universe
Will cover me when nights are cold.
I shall write invisible letters
On clouds of cigarette smoke
And remember times full of grace
When groves were awakening in spring;
Only memories remain there,
The tranquility of souls will not decay.
Bitter thoughts have built barriers,
Fields will bleed in spasms -
A safe haven for a hero of the fatherland.
Copyright © Rinaldo DiRicchardi