The pallor of so many

面無血色，這些

small white stones,

小小的白色石碑，

the metal in their names,

他們名字裏的金屬，

somber and strange

陰鬱而陌生

the calm of my country.

我的祖國多麼鎮定。

My father buried here,

我的父親葬在這裏，

and his father,

還有他的父親，

so many obedient lives.

眾多順從的生命。

And I too in my time

我也可能前來

might have come,

當我的壽命用盡，

but there is no peace

可是這塊土壤

in this ground for me.

無法給予我安寧。

These fields of death

這些死亡陣地

ask for broken columns,

缺少坍塌的石柱，

a legend in pitted bronze

一段傳奇，用布滿坑洞的青銅寫成

telling of the city

講述一個城市

pulled into rubble here.

如何淪為瓦礫。

The soil should be thick

泥土中應該有豐厚的

with shrapnel

榴霰彈碎片

and splinters of bone;

和骨碴；

for a shrine, a lamp

為那神龕點一盞燈

fueled with blood,

以鮮血為燃料，

if blood would burn.

如果鮮血能夠點燃。