All the great young men
walking on patrol
in the African sun
without choice
forced into war
burnt past brown,
and all of them
far to young to die
and how pale do death
now make them seem.
All the great young men
of those that did survive
wondering why they
are still alive
and what spared some
and made others pay the price.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem