We're moving on to die no more,
Eyes upon that distant shore,
Righteous as we march to war
Moving on to die no more.
Each a victim of loyalty,
Each a victim of royalty,
We do what must be done,
In the fog of bayonet and gun,
Moving on to die no more.
When the smoke clears there's a remainder
Reorganized by the commander,
We pay the toll, we play our role,
And grass grows over our soul,
Movin' on to die no more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem