When I close my eyes,
Youthful with mirth
To the eyes that are closed by death.
To the blood-stained clothes that tell the story,
I raise my sword and march on in glory.
When I close my eyes,
Half-blind and old
To the darkness that grips the world,
From within, I feel my own darkness-
I complain less; I brag less
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem