The valiant men defended their land,
Facing the enemy with weapons in hand.
The invaders outnumbered them ten thousand to one...
And yet, these brave men would never run.
They would face their end and earn their glory
In the coming battle, bitter and gory.
They would go to their deaths as the heavens thundered...
They would meet their gods, these brave three hundred.
Throughout the centuries, men sat and pondered,
'Did they die in vain, the Spartan three hundred? '
Historians say nay and past warriors say better...
''Tis a glory to die free than live life with a fetter! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem