they uphold the flags that bring them down...
all kings nothing..without crowns...
bleeding to death for a mass who forgets...
wicked spell of oblivion...without regrets...
atop the impassable, venturing into unfathomable..
the heroes refuse to die..while they serve..
awaiting the greatest glory,
death by honor...and lie unheard...
violence strikes violence...
ashes in the dust...
they color the grey of reason...
with their crimson blood...
the heroes sing their song..
while death plays its flute..
one waiting for another..
by the river, over the bridge..behind a bush...
pelting showers of metal..meets the eye...
hits the flesh, aching a goodbye...
yet the march unceaseable ethereal...
engraves the prints that decipher loss of life
and yet the people unaware...
push aside the topic...
like winter seasons shunned out of the window...
for them..the unsung is unreal..
and what is real..is unsung to them...
heros to us, they will be a forever march..
onto a destiny untold,
only death unfolds..
the meaning of life..
when it collides with brutal force...
and yet some survive..
to tell the tale..
some die....without a name...
unsung heroes...sworn to uncease...
unsung heroes..silent till deceased...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very patriotic......true too.. just great.....very nice job! ! ! ! !