I am a mercenary, a soldier in a damn fools war.
Sometimes, I must question, what is it that I fight for.
Usually, it is money, that my kind desire.
But my want for gold, died long ago in bloody hates red fire.
I thought, I fought for honour, but I see this is a lie.
The real reason I’m fighting, is because I wish to die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem