A soldier lain in pools of blood,
A soldier of no name,
A dying soul face down in mud,
His mercy is to blame.
Now booming blows are deep below
The Emerald River
In visceral form and bellows
Travelling in shivers
Across the vibrating granite.
Your heart will stop, dear friend,
And you shall see no holy light,
Just darkness with no end.
Now sleep, poor soldier, sleep softly again,
For I shall weep for you and the sins of Man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem