Strange trials there be
Headlong and fierce
The struggles, dark broodings
And mutinies bleak.
Too few, too scant
To carry forth
The torches bright
Of deeds gallant,
Chivalries of old.
Too few to instill
The valiant clime
Too few, too rare
This burden bear
This, the legacy sublime.
So only this now remains
The battles and scars
Of men and sons
And men that
Were but once
Just sons.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem