The rose has blossomed
In the night
And its crimson beauty
Casts bright shadows
Over darkness.

The blood is immortal.
As the war,
But the war, without hate,
Is dead.
As are we
Without hope.

Men will die,
But their hope lives on.

And the blood will continue to flow
As brothers in arms fall alone.

The rose is immortal,
As the sun,
But the sun, without flame,
Is dead.
As is the rose
Without light.

Petals will fall,
But the rose shall never wither.

And the blood will continue to flow;
The soldier is not alone.