my knight is sat in a foreign land
looking at the sun
his crusade is over
his battle has been won
his sword thrown by his side
killed many a man
from distances far and wide
he feels that warming sun
upon his tiered face
his war paint starts to run
and armour begin fade
untill he is no longer a soldier
but the boy for whom i prayed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this poem it has a good flow to it and the subject matter is good as well. Dan