He stared at his war medals;
As bright as when first minted,
His own lustre long since tarnished;
Only tear-filled eyes now glinted!
He belonged to a generation
That sacrificed its fragile youth,
And traded it for our defence;
For freedom and for truth.
Although a very modest man
Who accepted his war-torn lot,
He wanted the world to remember,
All the others left to rot.
A past filled with campaigns like his,
Couldn't easily be put aside,
Though through many a tortured memory,
God only knew how he'd tried.
Don't ever forget this brave soldier,
Who now struggles to pull on his vest,
For if you forget the alive and with medals,
You'll surely, never remember the rest!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem