Rushing in high mountains towering
rushing through and through
mists a looming
rocks a glooming
wind a roaring true
black shadows flickering
dark lights shining
damp figures pilfering
rushing through and though
sky a stormy grey
no sun in sight
though it's day
all that's left
is endless searing night
rushing through no time to stop
rushing in great hordes
rushing through with numbers to slew
rushing on the top
racing roaring shouts a swarming
ignoring all things near
racing roaring leaving darkness gnawing
trampling all things dear
rushing through to desert plains
army holding clear
swords a shining
on blood a dining
weapons all too near
crackling through seas of sand
a fierce, united faithful band
thundering to war and death
with great hearts taken by theft
rushing through grim expressions painted
upon stern beardless faces
youth shining in the eyes of those
destined to die, a blooming rose
of scarlet blood exploding imploding
staining drops spilling stoning
destiny not near not yet
time to turn back and let
fate take its hold on comrades arms
but those cowards they don't dare desert
don't dare help loved ones
don't dare stop killing
those cowards through the desert thundering
those cowards soon to be life a plundering
rushing racing taunting wasting
living dying pointlessly crying
memory hoarding grief train boarding
those cowards rushing to war.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem