If I were a bird,
I should also sing with a hoarse throat:
This land hit by the storm,
This river of sadness and anger will surge forever,
This restless and angry wind,
And the gentle dawn from the forest ...
And then I died,
Even feathers rot in the ground.
Why do I often have tears in my eyes?
Because I love this land deeply. ...
If I were a bird,
I should also sing with a mellow throat:
Breeze and drizzle nourish this land,
This river is always full of our passion,
The endless flowing wind,
And the soft morning glow in the forest ...
And then I died,
Even the feathers melt underground.
Why do I often cry?
Because I love this land deeply. ...