Tis a noble fate
For a man to die for his country.
To fall in the heat of battle,
Fighting for the women and children of his homeland.
But war is such a petty thing.
Violence erupts because of things so small,
It seems impossible for men to give any thought to them.
Of all the glory, in all the world, it seems
That most of it comes from the coveting of material things.
Power, glory, fame and fortune.
Eyes filled with lust over a woman so beautiful,
That men hardly restrain themselves from taking her for their own ends.
War has become the solution for everything,
Big or small.
Many wars have been great,
But only in a way that is as cruel as it is wicked.
Remain aloof from the temptations of battle,
For it is the way to true happiness.
Far to many great heroes have been born from war,
But powerful is the man that can calm the storm.
Soon, the death and glory of battle will end.
Violence is always the answer.
Tis a noble fate
For a man to die for his country,
His body lying broken by that of a better foe.
But a terrible one
For a politician to have
Warriors die for his own petty troubles.
Putting enmity between you and another
For which he that only deserves friendship.
It is a folly to remain loyal to a man
Who relies on war to solve his problems.
Wrong for a leader to waste countless lives
On meaningless whims which his own mind manifested.