I'd rather be the rapids,
A river in the mountains,
On the rugged road,
Pass over the rocks ...
As long as my lover
This is a small fish,
In my waves
Swim around happily.
I'd rather be a barren forest,
On both sides of the river,
For a gust of wind,
fight bravely ...
As long as my lover
It's a bird,
In my dense
Make a nest and sing among the branches.
I would like to be a ruin,
On the steep rocks,
This silent destruction
Doesn't make me depressed. ...
As long as my lover
Is the ivy of youth,
Along my desolate forehead,
Climb up intimately.
I'd rather make a cabin,
At the bottom of the ravine,
On the top of the hut
Be attacked by wind and rain ...
As long as my lover
It's a lovely flying flame,
In my stove,
Blink slowly and happily.
I want to be a cloud,
This is a broken gray flag.
In the vast sky,
Wandering around lazily,
As long as my lover
A coral sunset,
Beside my pale face,
Show a bright luster.
To Cha Daieff Pushkin
Love, hope, quiet glory
You cann't lie to us for long,
Is the joy of youth,
It also disappeared like a dream, like a fog;
But our hearts are still full of longing,
Under the pressure of the brutal regime,
We are anxious.
Listen to the call of the motherland.
We endure the torture of expectation,
Waiting for the sacred free time,
Like young lovers.
Waiting for that sincere date.
Now the fire of freedom is still burning in our hearts,
Now our dedication to honor is not dead,
My friend, we should put our hearts and minds.
Beautiful passion, all presented to our Zubang!
Believe it, comrade: a charming and happy star.
Will rise and shine,
Russia wants to wake up from sleep,
On the ruins of tyranny,
Will write our names!
Fort McKinley Roman
Beyond greatness
It is human's ignorance of greatness.
Who sat here crying in the war?
Its laughter once plunged 70,000 souls into a deeper abyss than sleep.
The sun is cold, the stars and the moon are cold, and the waves in the Pacific Ocean are boiled by gunfire.
Smith Williams Fireworks Festival is too glorious to take you home.
Your name shipped back to your hometown is colder than the sea water in winter.
Where is the hand of your savior in the noise of death?
Blood washed away the great memorial.
The war is crying. Why doesn't it laugh?
70,000 cruciferous flowers form a garden, and the village is surrounded by lilies.
Not moving in the wind, not moving in the rain.
Silence shows the paleness of Manila Bay to the tourists' cameras.
Smith Williams is a mirror image of the death barrier. I just want to know
Where did your eyes play when you were a child?
Where are the tapes and color slides of spring?
The birds in Fort McKinley don't crow, and the leaves dare not move.
Every sound will make the silence here bleed.
Space and space are insulated. Time escaped from the clock.
There is less talk here than the gloomy horizon, and it is always silent.
Beautiful silent room, the garden of the dead, the scenic spot of the living.
God has come to admire, and the car and the city have come.
Smith Williams, you can't come or leave.
Still like taking off the surface of the pendulum, you can't see the face of the years clearly.
In the day and night, in the night when the stars disappear.
Your blind eyes fall asleep regardless of season.
When I woke up, I found an incomprehensible world.
Sleeping soundly, Fort McKinley's particularly melancholy green grass.
Death is crowded with shrines on the screaming marble.
Show the complete star-spangled banner to immortality and clouds.
Fort McKinley is a land-based Pacific Ocean, and its waves are shaped into a forest of steles.
A huge relief hangs on the darkest background of death, with tears flowing.
Seventy thousand stories were burned in the white trembling.
Smith Williams, when the sunset burns red, the wild mango grove is at a loss.
God will leave in a hurry and the stars will fall.
You're not going anywhere.
There is no door at the bottom of the gloomy Pacific Ocean.