These wounds are deep and antiquated scars have opened wide, the same passion that coursed in my heart now charges the life from my body.
My sword has grown much too heavy; my armor no longer holds the spirit to defend. The banner I brandished proudly now rests tattered on stained earth, soiled and beyond repair.
Constitution shattered and vision dimmed, I deliberate my next few moments… my last few moments. Would I be remembered for the way I lived, or the way I died. Would I be remembered at all..?
It is too late for apprehension, the sun sets, darkness draws near...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem