Mighty knight of the known land,
Ornamented with shining armor,
Parades the ground when mounted on a horse,
Flexing the flag, glorifying victory
Against the politicized enemy.
No one sees what lies beneath the helmet.
That not only guards the cerebrum
But also the remorse they carry.
For stacking mountains of corpses
Of those families awaiting on the other side.
Flowing rivers of crimson
Spoil the tender land,
Given by Mother herself.
Polluting the air with filth and must
That carries stories from land to land.
Finally, mercilessly slaying
Sons, husbands, fathers, brothers,
Daughters, sisters, wives, mothers,
Forming the hill they left behind.