Men with arms never know
what sort of death is in wait
in frontier or front line.
They swear to rain courage bullets
and brave the killing battle hours.
A downfall may curse a host of them
cutting down into nine!
Why will lovers then fear any catastrophe?
Parting ways someday is surely a disaster
but this fear can`t stop losing your dear heart!
Do we ever downplay the beauty of a lovely flower
just because in some hours it will be stark over?
Life is a stoic judge; very cool and sternly smart!
It never hands the chicken hearts a real trophy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem