Do you remember? I am a little golden flower who once sang "The Ballad of Rammed Rice" to you. When the American devils crossed the "38th parallel" to invade Korea and slaughter the Korean people, you bravely crossed the Yalu River and came to Korea not far from Wan Li to fight with us, repelling the Japanese attacks again and again, saving the lives of our whole village and defending our country.
In the past eight years, you were the first heroic army to help us in the war of resistance, and the last to leave. You really have done too much for our Korean people. I remember that in the Battle of Shangganling, a volunteer soldier named Huang Jiguang gave his 23-year-old life in order to seize a commanding height that could not be captured for a long time. I still remember a soldier named Qiu who died to prevent the enemy from finding our target.
After the war, you rebuilt our home, planted crops and brought us clothes and food. You fought bloody battles, sacrificed blood and starved, and made selfless contributions to us, which enabled us to tide over one difficulty after another. How can you forget this friendship that is higher than the mountain and deeper than the sea? Although we are not relatives, we are better than relatives. How can we forget this great friendship condensed with blood and life?
Dear Uncle Volunteer, today, you will leave North Korea and return to your motherland. At this parting moment, my friends in the village and I sent a bunch of beautiful Jindalai and said with deep affection: Goodbye, dear friends!
Goodbye, dear uncle volunteer!