Here he lies lifeless
He whose hands had many healed
Though unsung by some
Lo, we cheer him home
Down his homestead, we set him
Our selfless Hero!
Pain is the pleasure
Of earthly patriotism...
Fame is for a while
Though the rose blossoms
On fields where good does not stay
It withers at dusk
Kindness lives briefer
Twilight comes after sunset
All is vanity!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem