The end to danger is near,
I just am indignant about the bandolier.
I have my bayonet, to stab and kill,
Vietnam was a time of the bill.
My bayonet has air to lighten the load
Of a fellow foe, and then his abode.
The anode to this little telling
Is a positive tool to make a negative tool
Be vanquished, explored and smelling.
The wounds of heaven are like a fool,
But why do soldiers play so hard?
Bravery is rebellious near a shard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
fine rhymes and diction well put up piece! Thanks..........