By the graves of the young

The leaves fall slowly and afraid

Of disturbing the love and peace

And the dust and wind who prayed



The sun shines softly upon

The epitaphs of the brave

Who chose to smile

While their memories fade



The earth embraced the bodies

Of the truthful and the martyr

Whispering “a few moments left”

For the day to be made



The young and the brave

The truthful and the martyr

Lie side by side beating

Listening to the next grenade