Shadows that dance upon the walls,
And wander with you down death filled halls,
Their whispers and cries resound in your mind,
In webs of gossamer, your soul they bind
Beholden to gods that have no name,
And secrets that grip your heart with shame,
Never again to darken this door.
The bodies that hand themselves over to war
They're driven by honour, and dream of glory,
Theirs is just another story.
Their hopes and dreams passed over again,
Their souls gripped by torturous pain,
Their hearts still good but never whole.
Time, it seems, has taken it's toll,
The shadows will dance forever and a day,
Down paths no sun ever lit the way.
Stains upon the hearts of heros true,
Memories take on a bloody hue,
Be they ever secure in the hearts and minds of those who love them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem