This is the field where the battle did not happen,
Where the unknown soldier did not die.
This is the field where gra** joined hands,
Where no monument stands,
And the only heroic thing is the sky,
And the only heroic thing is the sky.
Birds fly here without any sound,
Unfolding their wings across the open.
No people k**ed-or were k**ed-on this ground
Hallowed by neglect and an air so tame
That people celebrate it by forgetting its name.
This is the field where the battle did not happen,
Where the unknown soldier did not die.
This is the field where gra** joined hands,
Where no monument stands,
And the only heroic thing is the sky,
And the only heroic thing is the sky.