Les Creus Vermelles

The red crosses move in the horror
of dead bodies, wounded bodies, faces of fear
to pave the way
What a battle, what a fight, what courage.
How many medals on the winner's chest.
Only thirty thousand dead on the field of honor
who will never see the sun rise again.

The red crosses have already walked the last body,
now it's the job of flies and dust
to erase all memories.
Memories of men who thought they were the best
who would escape death in battle,
like other dreamers
who on the field of honor
will never see the sun rise again.

What a party
the crows are having,
hovering over the remains
of that group of soldiers
who dreamed...