No one sent a flower to you,

No one shed tears for you,

Your expedition crossed the ocean thousands of miles,

Now you only like a pile of sand.

Maybe your generals are now at the banquet,

May hold beauty in their revelry,

Who would remember that the tomb of another country?

Only the north wind in the nostalgia with you.

Homeland may still have your mother,

White-haired, begging on the streets,

However, in scarlet hero dreams

Who ever thought of such a mother and son.

Now, it to the north wind in the night,

Do you regret having come here to kill?

Over there, is the gorgeous flowers of the world,

You are here, no one pay homage to the dead grave.