translation.en: And the poem goes: "On the idle hill of summer, lazy with the flow of streams, hark I hear a distant drummer, drumming like a sound in dreams, far and near and low and louder on the roads of earth go by, dear to friend and food to powder, soldiers marching, soon to die."
translation.zh: 诗是这样的 闲荡夏林间 溪自细细流 遥听远鼓响 鼓乐疑梦音 无常世间道 珍重朋与辈，碾食成粉末 战士踏征途 魂销沙场渺