Golden feather

He whose memories never cease; 

A soldier; ever loyal,

Lay out service to country and men.

He works hard, fights prolonged, for a bit of colored ribbon.

Renders his life not for family; but for his country.

He is that fallen lance that lies hurled.

His life is brief; but he lay unforgotten;

The service, sacrifice rendered are never forgotten. 

Lies immortal in people's mind;

For whom he had shed blood and life.

When they die, no one knows; 

After they descend onto the land they once saved,

Nation whimper and snivel.

No one cares of a soldier in war,

No concern for him or his family.

Nation whine and show their gratitude;

When the poor soul valorously dies.

He does not know when death approaches,

As it advances; accepts it happily and fearlessly.

With neither a sense of grief or disgust.

Never lets his country bow;

Whilst his temples are cut;

Wishes none to remember; acknowledge him; just wants his men and country safe.

At time, binded to a box; 

With chest mounted with medals; carried home.

The Indian flag; he saved, 

Lay as a sheath on him.

Only a dying horse; full of gear,

Swifty kneels to death.

Bows first, kisses the earth and leaves unnoticed.

No honors wait him; left with gratification he acquired; saving his country.

Never waits for his turn;

But prances towards death.

His wife and children, sad but proud 

Live to tell tales of Golden Feather; 

Which strut to save his men 

Bold and barefaced.

Jai Hind ! Brave soldiers ! Jai