He\'d captured during Korean War, the battle-field,
And the enemy sent him to the remoted coal mine.
Last fifty years, the friends\'ve died at the red field,
Barely, he had escaped the cold and frozen mine.
He escaped the land of cold place by himself,
The presidents\'d gave the money to the North,
And visiting but the prisoners\' name\'re on the shelf,
Returning the spies, but they\'re forgotten thenceforth.
He deeply and deeply longed for his home town,
The earth was changed, and he\'s not accustomed to,
His old families had passed away at the old town,
He\'s lived as the other stranger, too.
To the crematory, he made his last parade,
While turning to the ashes, no requiem, no glory.
But with sentence of the poem, he\'d rested on the glade.
\'Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.\'
(30th, Jul.,2023, Kinsley Lee)