My landscape's littered now with fallen friends,
Lost heroes who, alas, will fight no more,
Comrades in arms with whom I shared the bliss
Of battle and the torment of despair.

Their battered shields, their blunted swords, lie strewn
About the field where long we valiantly
Proclaimed our cause and grappled with the foe,
Outnumbered ever but unmatched in will.

I hear again the cries from lips now mute,
I smell the smoke, retaste the bitter bite
Of bleeding wounds, the stinging salt of tears,
I feel their grasp, I see them singly die.

The conflict rages on, our ranks are thin;
I can but persevere, some day to win.

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