When I lie at last on my cold hard bed,
There comes no rest for my battle-weary head,
No peace at last from the chaos of the fight,
No tender relaxation from my undeserving plight.
For day and night I am haunted by your memory,
Day and night I am haunted by your face,
Your death-bitten body, your lifeless staring eyes,
The fear upon your features death could not disguise.
And all because of me upon the field you now lie,
All because of me your blood runs dry,
The men call me a hero,
They say I should be proud.
But where is all my glory?
How can I feel pride?
Because of me you live no more,
Because of me you died.
It was I who brought you to the grave,
I who sealed your fate.
Now at my feet my sins do lie,
But repentance comes too late.
For now a brother's lost a brother,
Now a lover's lost a lover,
But not for all the sins of him,
But for the sins of another.
So if I do outlive this war,
If I make it home,
Take comfort in the fact that I shall never rest alone.
Your face shall haunt my everyday, my nightmares and my dreams,
No peace shall ever rest this head...
I wish that I had died instead.