Now, seventy years have passed
Since it ceased the echoes of the cannons,
But the many soldiers\'re living with the blast
In mine, left in the red land and canyons.
No soldiers could know when the war was ceased
Ev\'ry-day, they\'re held in the mine at least.
At twenty one century, they\'re abandoned,
And long time, they\'ve lived with numbers no names.
When young, by the nation, at emergency they\'re summoned.
And fought for nation and with nation\'s names.
At the national cemetery, they\'re registered as the missing,
Or the war dead, so far they\'re regarded as no living.
For long time, they\'ve longed for home but couldn\'t mouth,
But once departing no visiting to their town.
In fall, the wild geese fly to the south,
The crossed entanglements, the winds can go down,
But all time, they\'re held the forcible grinds
And even to the birds, they couldn\'t talk their minds.
Now we all must call their old names
Again. Let\'s call their names, aloud,
The names\'re remained the death land, and the forgotten names,
Until the sounds reach to the heaven, in loud,
Until the shouts hit the freedom bells,
Until the calling make them go out in dells.
(30th, Jul.,2023, Kinsley Lee)