At the end of the fight,
In the early morning light,
This feeling of dred,
When we pick up our dead.
I can never explain,
The hurt and the pain.
I pray that people will understand,
That war, the suffering, this weary,
Fighting man.
On a muddy, red, clay slope,
We called it 'Hamburger Hill',
North Vietnamese soldiers fought us,
They fought hard and tested our will.
We fought a desperate battle,
Sometimes, hand to hand,
Bayonets fixed, charging up,
Fighting man to man.
101st Airborne, 'Screaming Eagle' patch on our shoulder,
Many troopers died, they will never grow older.
We fired our weapons, charged up that hill,
Brave young troopers, iron willed.
I have always been proud, how we fought that day,
Forty years later, it's still with me today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another poem without any comments! ! Philip is an outstanding poet who writes from the heart! !