Nearby gunfires burst, keep pounding my soul
To cajole my will, now logic it shuns
As all sense were lost, I gave up my goal
Or else charge, mindless, in suicidal runs
Doubly cursed and damned, now becomes my bones
Doubts harbored in war, to my home proceed
Whilst battered and scarred in the battle zones
Yet right in my yard, my linens muddied
On both fronts besieged, where am I to go?
To retreat or what, might I ask right now
My Lord, please answer, for I have to know
Must I hang my arms, and just leave somehow?
Peace could be as bad as the wars that rage
As my enemy lodged deeply within
If against myself, in the war I wage
Should my foe then die, would that mean my win?
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem