He'd rather take Orders
He'd rather burn Borders
They want him Out
He has never lost a Bout
The soldiers are Scared
No-One speaked, no-one Dared
His heart is black & Hollow
He no longer wants to Follow
He steps out of Line
He left no last Sign
The battalion Search
One tree, His Perch
One single Blow
The soldiers blood Flow
Stains roots and leaves Red
Even the River Bed
One single Blast
One final Cast
One final Breath
Just before DEATH
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem