Klimt 1918 - Comandante

Here is a man with his clothes soiled with earth
It's been a long trip through strange lands
His beard is long, eyes are tired
There is no way to find our where he is
Here is the man who looks so far away
The lips that once kisses are now split
Away from it all he still hopes to dare
Would you say he's a commander?

Here is a man who kenew true tenderness
He pulls his gun in the grass
With pale and trembling hands
He shows no fear, despite the pain
Would you say he's a commander?

"Ever failed.
No matter.
Try again
Fail again.
Fail better",
Someone said

His face lights up, again for a while
Then the wind blows hard on the dusty trail
Birds don't dare to sing to the southern stars
Rain does not come down to stroke the night
The river stops flowing through the black stones
While he smiles fear had never left