Standing in front of the grave
I seem to hear a faint bugle call.
Sense of mission; sense of responsibility
Rows of martyrs' tombs
Like a powerful army.
Prepare for a trip or March
tombstone
A few words
Condensed a period of bonfire years.
Red tomb
Solidified a young life.
Standing in front of the grave
The nobility and the poor are getting smaller.
Life and blood are shocking.
On a peaceful day
We forget easily.
I even forgot where pigeons came from.
Learn to forget and think.
From the smiles of those cold stones
We may become mature.
Standing in front of the grave
I seem to hear the trembling voice of history.
The grave is a glorious chapter.
The pigeon whistle sounded.
That's a bullet whistling.
It was the body that fell.
Immortality is the spirit.
They wrote their own history.
Our history is being written.
Tomb-Sweeping Day's Poems in Memory of Revolutionary Martyrs (Part Two)
At the foot of Mengshan Mountain, beside the Yishui River,
The martyr cemetery under the shade of pine and cypress,
Thousands of martyrs in an era,
The bones colonize and the soul rests in it.
For the sake of ideals,
In order to get rid of iron shackles and chains,
On the road of national independence and liberation,
Sacrifice in the struggle between dawn and darkness.
Zhao Bo, Wang Lushui, He Wanxiang,
Luo Binghui, Zhang Yuanshou, Ada,
From the old Eighth Route Army and the New Fourth Army of 1 15 Division to the guerrilla king,
From the famous Meng Lianggu Yuanziya to Daqingshan.
And the anti-Japanese heroine Chen Ruoke,
A prison with a daughter under the full moon;
A talented woman abandoned her pen to join the army,
Blood splashed with revolutionary partners.
We must not forget that strength of the people,
How many times, how many times,
That simple red sister-in-law, milk, pancakes, unicycle,
Dedicated to the China Revolution.
Countless names of justice,
Thousands of "anti-strangulation" movements,
Focus on an unstoppable force,
Shout for the new China in my dream.
No wonder Su Yu, a "winning general" with outstanding military achievements,
The ashes were scattered in the cemetery,
With the scenery and sleeping comrades,
I gave up my most sincere wish before I died.
When the wind blows, pine trees will burst.
The hero's fearless memory of ShaSheng is deafening;
A continuous history of behavior,
Encourage latecomers to follow suit and sail.
This is the pride of the people in the old revolutionary base areas.
This is a classic of many Yimeng spirits.
This is the weaving of the great rejuvenation of the Chinese dream.
This is the spiritual home of Chinese children.