The bugler casts a resounding spell
Drummers sound the enemies knell
Ready they stand with tightened belts,
The clatter of armor and lances felt,
Brimming they stood, emblem aglow
With Godly grace their face's show
Cue from thence, the horn is blown
Then the ranging spear is thrown
Drawn sword, the chieftain moves,
Neighing steeds with surely hooves,
Columns march to a pounding beat,
Spirits rage in the moment’s heat,
At home behind, the children knelt
A lightening blow the swords dealt,
Unrestrained their martial feat,
Trampled on the million feet,
Meet amidst in a scrunching grind
Forsaken thence the home behind
In a furious rain the arrows fly
Enemy’s aghast by the battle cry
Again and again it groups to try
Woe to them! Their veins are dry
Kicked up dust and heaving breath
Spreads the veil of gore and death
Quashed an smitten, blows to eat
The enemy turns to run and retreat,
Taste of victory on a parched lip
But before our chieftain takes a sip
He raises hands to praise the lord
Thankyou GOD! Oh thankyou GOD!
(Islamabad)
(Vintage…from files)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A vivid scene that makes the reader 'see' the scene and sip the taste of victory. It's like classics written about knights and warriors.