I am going to the wars now – O!
Where there is blood and toil
And passing over unknown seas
And lands –
And rain and mist and glaring of the sun
I’m going to the wars now – O!
I’m going to the wars now – O!
Where night and day and light and dark
Together mix – become irrelevant:
Save for the on-ward marching
And hoarse chanting of the march songs:
I’m going to the wars now – O!
I’m going to the wars now – O!
Where the red earth is redder made
Where drops of red, red blood
The golden corn-sheaves dye
Where mothers lose their sons
Fathers their wives and children
Children their fathers lose:
I’m going to the wars now – O!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem