On the battlefields many new ghosts a-weeping,
Alone, reciting verses, I'm an old man lamenting;
In the sky at dusk the clouds press down low,
Whilst the gloom closes in slow.
From several districts there's no news lately,
Seated with no letters, I'm saddened immensely.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem