O, My Old Guard! Poem by Kamaru Zzaman

O, my Old Guard!
Life is swollen on your intrepid face
Your eyes tell the stories of many wars.
That ravaged soil of your distant land lies barren
Far yonder the valley of chirping birds, the sky is mournfully gray.
Flurry winds blowing the shy flowers on their petals
Your grandchildren playing hide and seek
With the legacy you have left behind
Not a single soul is wise enough to reach for the wisdom
You alone have held aloft the sun of destiny.
As you have won many wars to conquer the throne
Your grandchildren have forgotten the fairy tales
Neither they have come back to kiss your fearless face.
They will never look back to heave a sigh of relief
They never know that their days and nights are of your own
You only know that the civilisation is built on your bones and skulls
How much blood and sweat you have shed to defeat the enemy
Your sweated face is the history of mankind.
They never know that your hands have spread the bed of roses for them
They never know how many times you are born in this world.

And how many times you have died in conquest of longer days of light
They will never come back to see you dead beneath the soft soil
They will only know that once you lived and thence you died.
O, the Old Guard,
The only warrior of this world,
Birds will sing for you, flowers will never wither in your memory
And the sun will rise high above your head to kiss you good bye
Alas! You will never come alive!