Fighter

I had tried to tell them with the tip of my mighty pen That it was useless, this war I had, in fact, told them so I had said it loud, louder than ever But Perhaps my mighty pen was not so mighty Perhaps my shrill voice was not so vibrant Perhaps the audience was not listening Perhaps there was no audience at all But wait a moment I heard the cry, yes, I heard the wailing I heard the death-screams, too I heard so much that was revolting: I heard your importuning voice, too And you know what? I saw so much ugliness I even saw the raw flesh Fed to the hungry guns And the raw brains Scattered to the four winds I saw so much revolting stuff: I saw your deformed face, too. Come here, fighter, come What was it you fought for? What was it you bled for? What was it you died for? Come, come here; let me see! Tell me frankly, what was the promise? Deliverance, did you say? Freedom and dignity for the people? Tell me, was that the promise? Come on, fighter, do not fidget, no! Tell me what you fought for- If not for these? I will tell you, stranger, Said the fighter, I will shout it out. I fought for my land! I will build my freedom My dignity and my wealth On my land!