The sunrise disappeared behind the tall trees, as if perished there,
And a frozen sapphire rolled into the sky overhead.
Perhaps Abel did beg Cain for mercy once,
But we will not trade in our officers’ uniforms.
Underneath the dark gathering clouds a river is laying low.
Rapids whisper uneasily within the black depth.
I did not get a chance to write a letter back home –
To say goodbye to you, and to wish all the best.
On the opposite side of the river Red forces have gathered – try and mess with them! –
Night-time quiet all around will explode with gun-fire death.
On a dark stormy night we will cross to the enemy’s side,
So that there is no excuse left to spare ourselves.
The allegiance that you swore once has more meaning, the prayer’s more obsessive
When the battle is hopeless and there’s no chance.
Do not spare my new uniform. Pierce my burning heart
With your cold bayonet, cool it down.
The sunrise will stir up from the sounds of gun-fire and moaning.
Yesterday’s cadet will tip over into the wet grass.
The dead boy’s uniform has gold epaulets on it –
The expensive material will conceal the cut mark from the blade.
Please forgive me for all of the things I may stain with my blood.
I am grateful for those who will dare to mourn.
I can picture a single clear tear rolling onto my photograph
and your beloved frail hand shutting the album…