Old men there be, that did not feel fear:
In face of war, be it near or far,
Strained hearts grow strong, maimed minds turn to steel
To deal with loss, shrug it off with skill.
On battlefield, foreign or at home,
They waged the fight, with no dread of harm;
On land or sea, or up high in sky,
They diced with death, knew the final score.
But years fly fast, new opponents come
That rock their boats, dare disturb the calm;
Now time itself is the enemy
And they must take arms again once more.
Old men there be, that may now feel fear
As flesh grows frail, flickers faint the fire,
Yet keep the faith, ask not why or when,
Until the last battle has been won.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful words Richard...and beautiful tribute to them...thank you