by Marian H. Neudel, 1990

The bloodied sun sinks in the west
And lights us all with glory;
Here sleep the brave in honored rest;
The bugler tells our story;
O dulce et decorum est pro patria mori;
O dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.

Go tell the people, passer-by,
Read the stone before ye,
Tis sweet and fitting that we die
For our country’s glory;
Obedient to your will we lie
Pro patria mori;
O dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.

From under stone we’ve often seen
These lures to empty glory;
We know what deaths these words can mean,
Lonely, cold and gory;
We find these Latin words obscene,
Pro patria mori,
O dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori.

We have no country of our own,
We who sleep in glory;
We died your hatreds to atone,
Still you shun our story;
Oh write no more on any stone,
Pro patria mori;
O dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori.