Down the valley,
The ribboning cloubs,
Hearty thunder,
The scream of comrades,
As they fall,
Man by man,
By man,
The bulge has cracked,
Ardennes is an open massacre,
And the field,
Bright on the sun,
Lost under the Shermans boots,
They cannot give us any more,
We live now not to live and let die,
But to live until death,
And death comes to us all,
At the end.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem