O, Old Guard!

Life is swollen on your intrepid face

Your eyes tell the stories of many wars.

That ravaged soil of your distant land lies barren

Far yonder the valley of chirping birds, the sky is mournfully gray.

Flurry winds blowing the shy flowers on their petals

Your grandchildren playing hide and seek

With the legacy you have left behind

Not a single soul is wise enough to reach for the wisdom

You alone have held aloft the sun of destiny.

As you have won many wars to conquer the throne

Your grandchildren have forgotten the fairy tales

Neither they have come back to kiss your fearless face.

They will never look back to heave a sigh of relief

They never know that their days and nights are of your own

You only know that the civilisation is built on your bones and skulls

How much blood and sweat you have shed to defeat the enemy

Your sweated face is the history of mankind.

They never know that your hands have spread the bed of roses for them

They never know how many times you are born in this world.

And how many times you have died in conquest of longer days of light

They will never come back to see you dead beneath the soft soil

They will only know that once you lived and thence you died.

O, the Old Guard,

The only warrior of this world,

Birds will sing for you, flowers will never wither in your memory

And the sun will rise high above your head to kiss you good bye

Alas! You will never come alive!