The pain of pride and ache to cry,
For those old soldiers, marching by,
Now fragile in their marching pride,
Whose age worn faces cannot hide
Scenes of battle burned on mind
And youthful comrades left behind.
Old soldiers hold the marching line
Advancing, never marking time,
On wheels and foot, their number dwindles
Yet together find their passion kindled
As brave hearts answer to the call
Knowing soon they too will fall.
So share their pride and ache to cry,
As the last old soldiers pass on by.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Old soldiers hold the marching line...really beautiful and wonderful poem on patriotism. Very nice job on sharing.