My ascendant lord is fighting alone.
Thanks to God that it is Mars.
That it is well disposed in the 10th house
from Scorpion and in the friendly house.
And I am a soldier.
Feeble Sun and Jupiter
won`t let me get a crown and a throne.
Neither any accolade.
But I am proud.
Proud to miss a lot.
And to get a little.
Proud of spirits and valor.
Proud of being just a soldier
with a never ending will to fight on
and not to retreat from the daily defeated battle.
The wounds holed armor knows the dignity of a fighter.
The martial soul is standing with the feet firm on the blessed ground.
With clenched fists wrapped with bloody injuries.
With tight jaws along with nightmares hit grey cheeks.
With a warrior square shoulder.
And the poke marked flat forehead.
The sniffer dog like nostrils
smell the burning smell
from the burning scroll.
Yet a soldier is a soldier.
And the soldier is Mars
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem