Positions of war are becoming fast
Offered to men of steel, and welcoming spirit.
Killing is a fine art, pain is anger
Much like a pain in the head and heart.
My heart is suddenly caressed by lead
Bullets.
My microscope shows germs, and nasty
Little nuts and sugars, more like a patient I am.
Let angers mount and foretell like the actions,
My position is clear, and clearer by the day.
Much like the reasons of a war
We fight, and lose the fight, far more.
Fast soldiery is required for the upkeep
Of future wars and battles committed
By the non-traitors, a pick of the few and many.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem