Died for - North of the Ramparts’(to an old tune)
We fought for Mulberry Springs
Die now for Garlic River.
Wash our swords in Parthian Seas,
Feed our mounts on T’ien Shan snows.
Thousands of miles to and fro.
The Three Armies tired and old.
These Huns kill instead of ploughing,
Sow white bones in desert sand.
Ch’in built the Great Wall.
Han keeps the bright beacons.
These fires never die.
These wars never end.
Hand to hand we fight and fail,
Horses screaming to the skies.
Kites and crows pick at our flesh
Perch on dead trees with our dead.
We paint the grasses red,
Because our General had a plan.
The sword I say’s an evil thing.
A wise man keeps it from his hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem