Cavalry’s hymn

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Page B6

January 30, 2018

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By Phillip Chao | 00:01 UTC+8 January 30, 2018 |

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Hauberk flashes its iron light,

The young cavalry ready for, tomorrow’s fight,

The colored flags hanged, on the sharpened lance,

On the muddy ground, where his beautiful Mount stamps.

The cloud dispersed,

And the sun shows its face,

When the bugler sound the charge.

Down the hill the cavalries run in their steady pace.

(The cannons declare their voice,

The bullets fly with fire,

And their mounts, cry out thunder!

While their lances, lift up higher)

The young cavalry,

In the crowds we can see,

Like the lightning did he grumble!

Never had the rocks made him stumble!

The bullets torn him down,

His head the first to touch the ground,

Fell into parts had his iron lance,

The hussar’s sword still in his hand.

Lying on the hill will him rest,

Whinnying in the air, his mount shivers its back,

One day will the green grass grow again,

And his hauberk will one day turn into ash.

Those who fought, and finally survive,

Their scars will be their prize,

When they are old and retired,

“To the Battle!” Will they sing, lifting the cup with pride,

While those who did not, become silent beside,

Will regret, ever since.

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