When your country asks you to pay a prize,
to gain the enemy's territory
some may have to pay with their demise
but as a man you are not free
and they send young men into the gates of hell
to gain the enemy's territory
while at home like kings they dwell
and they despise the tales of war not being glory
and they send young men into the gates of hell
and fighting is just a rotten old story
under the beating of canon and gun
and they despise the tales of war not being glory
to whatever lot may come; death may come to anyone
to go into the havoc that war brings
under the beating of canon and gun
they are careful not to express its true tidings.
When your country asks you to pay a prize,
to go into the havoc that war brings
some may have to pay with their demise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem