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The front line is the spot
where one toasts the celestial alcohol in war,
where our honorable stares are stained red
where the barrels yell

Where numerous painful memories
Downpour from adornments
Where rulers are crushed
Where dawns the day

There is no disgrace like death in war
All for nothing
Nothing at all like the extravagant passing
All for nothing
so valuable to them
All for nothing
so invaluable to all

Distant I see it
my heart longs for it
The spot to end
this unimportant pain

Hence they said:
‘When we are gone,
really we pass on not,
since we will finally breathe’
This will make us content

The front line is the spot
where one toasts the celestial alcohol in war,
where our honorable stares are stained red
where the barrels yell

Where numerous painful memories
Downpour from adornments
Where rulers are crushed

All for nothing

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