A shot on the head,
And that was all.
He was lying dead,
He had a bad fall.
He loved his nation,
So he was short dead.
'Tell my family.'
were the last words he said.
Not only he,
but thousands were like him.
His family lived in a hut,
There future was dim.
The country got victory.
The soldiers got prizes.
The enemies had gone.
The country's flag rises.
His family waited.
They cried and they wept.
He never came back.
He forever was slept.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem