Fighters are born to play the sky
Devouring death Fighters fly.
Fighters run to the boundles sea
Forgetting every single plea,
Fighters ignore warning voice
Destiny is their own choice.
Fighters fly to kiss the moon
Love to spread waxed wings soon.
The death bell hanging in the white Church,
With black rope in hand Fighters begin to march.
Long long way to walk with thorns of death,
Never Fighters lose their vaulting ambitious faith.
Either success, fame to follow
Or life to lead lonely within hollow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem