Tom Simard

Poetry, Music, and Prose

Book 7

“The sun was just now beginning to light up the fields
as it rose from the slow, deep-flowing stream of Ocean
to climb the sky, when the armies met on the plain.
It was hard to know whom the corpses belonged to, covered
with gore as they were and mangled, until the soldiers
with buckets of water washed off the clotted blood;
and they lifted them onto the wagons, shedding hot tears.”


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2 thoughts on “Book 7

  1. What translation are you reading?


  2. The Stephen Mitchell translation:


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