Sometimes I dream that every fallen soldier
Who on blood-soaked battlefield remained
Did not end up a piece of cannon fodder
But turned into a beautiful white crane
'Till present day they soar high above us
Mournfully making their solemn call
Perhaps that's why, with quiet sadness
Gazing at them makes silence fall
The tired flock flies in a wedge formation
Into the fog, as day and night become the same
I see a tiny gap, despite the elevation
Maybe this is a place that I can claim
One future day, as a majestic crane
In bluish haze across the sky I'll glide
My somber bird calls will not be in vain
They will find those who were left behind
Sometimes I dream that every fallen soldier
Who on blood-soaked battlefield remained
Did not end up a piece of cannon fodder
But turned into a beautiful white crane