By Zac Chee Zong Ze, U1830985B

I sit amidst my comrades in arms,
We stand against those who do us harm.
As the wind blows from the southeast,
The generals of Liu Bei gather to feast [1]

Lowly soldiers drafted to war,
In trouble times & promises of more.
A cup in one hand a brush in another,
I pen my thoughts to my worrying mother.

Before every battle, we get to eat
A table laid with various treats
Rice and vegetables, the best from the south
Invigorating the body as it enters the mouth

The best of foods is in bronze pots
I speak of wine, hardships forgot.
A cup for you, a cup for him,
let us not regret, going on a limb

Before the night ends, keep the drinks going,
One day on the battlefield, you’ll end up dying.
The green fields of today will be stained red tomorrow,
If I survive the war, will it end the sorrows?

I dream of the day, I wake up to my lover,
Back in the village, with grains to recover.
But all I have now is my sword and shield,
Wine in my stomach, a heart to yield.

This poem is based on the Three Kingdoms Period (220-280), written by a soldier before one of the many great battles. In this period of instability, a commoner joins the army in exchange for 3 meals a day and the occasional indulgence of wine.