I do.-petofi.
I would like to be a torrent, as long as my lover.
This is a small fish.
Swim around happily in my waves.
I would like to be a barren forest, as long as my lover.
This is a bird.
Nest in my dense forest.
I would like to be in ruins, as long as my lover.
This is the ivy of youth.
Climb up intimately along my desolate forehead.
I would like to be a cabin, as long as my lover.
This is a lovely flame
Blinking happily in my stove.
I would like to be a gray flag, as long as my lover.
This is a coral sunset.
There was a light on my pale face.
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 is insulated from space. 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.
Note 1:
Fort McKinley commemorates the death of 70,000 American troops in the Pacific during World War II. On the outskirts of Manila, Americans have 70,000 marble crosses engraved with the birthplace and name of the deceased, which are arranged on an empty green slope in a spectacular and sad way, showing the tragic situation in the Pacific Ocean and the tragic fate of mankind. 70,000 colorful stories were buried by death forever. The world is beyond the scope of the noise of the city. The ethereal spirit here has a huge and uneasy trembling, and the birds in the mountains are scared to stop singing. How terrible it is to be quiet, so quiet that even God feels lonely and dares not stay; In the distance, Manila Bay is sparkling, and there are mango trees and buttonwood trees everywhere. The scenery is so sad. The sky is blue and the flags are flying, which is awe-inspiring; It was dark, the flag was quiet, and there was silence all around, which was heavily weighed down by the shadow of death ... I recently went to the Philippines on business and stood in front of Smith Williams' cross to take pictures.
Note 2: War is a great and tragic theme faced by human life and culture for thousands of years. In war, human beings often have to hold "greatness" and "holiness" in one hand and a palm full of blood in the other. This is indeed a tragedy that God can neither direct nor bear to see. But for the sake of freedom, truth, justice and survival, human beings often have to bravely accept the war.
Through human's high wisdom and profound conscience, we really feel that war is one of the great dilemmas of human existence, because in the eyes of "blood" and "greatness", its by-product is cold and horrible "death".
I expressed this strong sense of tragedy in the poem Fort McKinley.