The songs of war praise
and chants of the brave
with voices, deep voices
of men with valliant sane
sheilds and sword hail
of nobely sworn pain.
Ease the course of death
to strip the core of earth.
Straitened line they stand
crying hard in band
straining veins embrace
as muscle pulse engage.
Multiples in tens
like chains on lions chest
their last breathe they fight
to mine the bluest bite
strain thier hearts in beats
some will take to heel
to slave behind the hill
thus are slained in blame
blue chip, a surge for fame.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem