When the smoke of ashes sighs the sorrow of poverty,
I still stubbornly spread the ashes of disappointment,
Write with beautiful snowflakes: believe in the future.
When my purple grapes turn into dewdrops in late autumn,
When my flowers cling to other people's feelings,
I still stubbornly use frosted vines.
Write on the desolate land: believe in the future.
I'm going to wave the waves that rush to the horizon with my fingers,
I want to hold the sun in my hand,
The warm and beautiful pen flickers with the dawn.
Write with a child's pen: believe in the future.
The reason why I believe in the future,
I believe that people's eyes in the future-
She brushed away the eyelashes of history,