The green grass grows, 'tis scenery everywhere,
Underneath are soldiers fallen century's fertilizer.
The gallant heroes of bygone days now mere clay,
No names carved, and long blown far and away.
Armored was Napoleon, with fame but no fortune,
The man battle-wise,wet-winged in a June foreign.
Martyrs buried, servants of his ambition aglow,
Though heroes brave, they did make a great show.
Fate was iron-cold and vain was all man's strife,
Curtain on and curtain off, about the desperate life.
Failure now a topic for leisure, about this Conquer-All,
When some say: look!He is ridiculous, and is not tall.
Alas, many a life was wasted in flame, causing gloom,
In search for fame undying, only to find many a tomb.
-Poem by Petite (Ning Hsin-erh)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's a brilliant poem! I would just quote the last two lines: Alas, many a life was wasted in flame, causing gloom/ In search for fame undying, only to find many a tomb....fabulous expression! Greatly admire the piece of work!
Thanks for your up-raising comment, Dr. Swain. I am a newcomer here and I have learned a lot from you and other poets these days.