I'm afraid,
The wind swept the torn residue;
I panicked,
The air is filled with broken hearts.
So, I stood there,
My feet are covered with blood-like maple red.
On the maple red,
Why are they all spicy thorns?
Behind it is the blend of blood and fire.
Going forward is the gap between life and death.
Twilight hangs over the horizon,
The setting sun sets against the earth.
who is it? Playing the solemn and stirring national anthem,
Noble, magnificent and vast.
I brushed between cracks,
Completed that glorious mission.
To piece together flying debris,
Blow away the wailing and usher in the song of victory.
The thorns behind him have turned into roses,
Out of the ground, the blood is thick and fragrant.
It's dawn,
Hope of diarrhea;
That was after the thorns,
The raging anger left behind.