| Little field, my field | |
| Little field, my wide field | |
| Yes, heroes marched on that field | |
| Forgotten, temporary heroes | |
| The wind scattered them | |
| Yes, on that green field | |
| It scattered their bold songs | |
| Forgotten, temporary songs | |
| All they have left | |
| Is their reputation in war | |
| And dusty roads | |
| Roads that lead into the distance | |
| Little field, my field | |
| It has seen a lot of suffering | |
| It earned its daily bread with blood | |
| Forgotten, temporary blood |
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