Classic Poem

I have brothers, younger brothers in a place far away,
three of them sickly, not one of them strong;
parted in life, to veer and turn, never to meet;
barbarian dust blackens the sky, the road is long
Wild geese flying east, behind them the cranes —
if they could only carry me to your side!
Ah-ah, song the third, the singer's third refrain;
if I should die here, how would you find my bones?