The battle field, on the White Horse
The fallen soldier was founded as a corps.
In the trench, he was crouching,
He is the same posture as before, and observing.
Having been buried in the soil, the soldier,
For seventy years, has been waiting for the order.
The mission is over now, please,
Have an eternal sleep of ease.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem