some die painfully like the setting sun
others burn
like falling stars
or tracer bullets

some die
with the names of towns
on their lips
raising freedom’s flag
others die like dogs
on foreign soil
rotting in bombcrater graves

some die
so others may live

others die killing

soldiers
soldiers
soldiers

my heart marches
with some guns to battle
my lips blow out the fire of others

my tears wet the ground
where so many soldiers lie
the ground that echoes
the guns’ hoarse salute

the soldiers march to die
with tears in their cartridge belts
with tears in their cartridge belts
they march to conquer death

Translated by Jonas Zdanys