Outstretched he lies there, shot right through his spotless brow,
For this Crescent O Lord, what suns are setting now
O soldier, for this earth's sake fallen to the dust,
If your heavenly forbears kissed your brow, "twere just"
Brave you are, your blood makes "God is one" victorious,
Only the lions of Badr could be as glorious.
Who can dig a sepulchre great enough for you?
History itself, say I, cannot contain you.
Mehmet Akif Ersoy