In the middle of the old meadow
Long time ravaged
Its soil's only bumps and holes
That bushes can't hide from view
Long time deserted
Men have left here their bloody memories
Buried in company of tears,

In the middle of the old meadow
Stands up an older
It's pointing a dirty grey finger
To the rare sunrays
Stands up a walnut tree
Last lonely sign of accusation
An old dead tree, proud bark,

In the middle of the old meadow
A marble arch
Without pane gate to invite to nowhere
A frame around a landscape sight
A marble arch
Carved on its lintel, a thin quiet branch
Where waits peaceful, a dove.

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