We must build a man, my son
A strong and vibrant one,
With bones enriched with calcium
To bleach white in the sun.
We must build a man, my son
A healthy, stalwart man...
Whose blood is rich and red and ripe
To paint some far-off sand.
Yes, we must give the best, my son
The "lead sheep' of our fold.
So clean your plate and drain your cup
Try not to catch a cold
For we must build a man, my son
With serums, vitamins and oil
For the blood you shed must be the best
That e'er darkened foreign soil!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem