Those beautiful scenery.
Bonnie, Bonnie is my seat in the rose-red yard.
When I was sitting in the delicate red rose garden enjoying the beautiful scenery.
Bonnie is my boat in Garde, ballina.
Before I began to fail, the shade and shelter were always mine.
Beauty is my boat in Garde, ballina, sheltering me from the wind and rain until I die.
As you can all guess, my distress is near the nightingale now.
Sadness and sadness, I have to fight for the king of England
I don't know his friends or enemies. War is a cruel thing.
As you should have guessed by now, my pressure is to see heavy casualties in the war; My sorrow is that I still have to fight for the king when I don't even know his friends and enemies. The war is so cruel.
(capital nightingale means nightingale, which means hospital, and I guess it means casualties in the war)
The nightingale is close at hand, and my time at home is very short. The steam in Kaili and the mountains are no longer painful and sad. I will walk with Nancy in Jinshan or along a sunny stream, or look at my land proudly. We set sail at dawn and the sails are ready. When I never see old Benmore again, I will sigh with deep regret.
Dawn is coming, and my time in my hometown is so short that I bid farewell to the great rivers and mountains of Kaili with painful sadness. From then on, I can no longer walk on the golden uphill with Nancy, dreaming that the sun will illuminate the river and proudly "patrol" my familiar homeland ~ ~
When we set sail at dawn and everything was ready, we began to sigh and deeply regretted it when we never saw the old Benmore (estimated to be the name of the port) again ~
Now everything must change. I must cross the ocean. Our ship may be in the Bay of Biscay, under the tide. If I should drop shells or sink to the bottom of the sea, good people, let tear drops mourn for me and me.
But now everything has to change. I want to cross the ocean. Our ship may sink in the Bay of Biscay. If I am hit by a shell or buried in the sea, I have no complaints, as long as my friends cry for me and wail for me ~
If God forgives my white hair and lets me come back, I will love my antrim coast more, its dark blue mountains and the rain around the fire, and my heart's wish, which God has given me until my life fails, keeping me away from cruel wars and nightingales.
But maybe God let me live and go back to my hometown. Then, I swear that I will love antrim Beach more, her deep blue mountains more and her deep blue rain more. Sitting by the fire, seeking spiritual satisfaction in peace until the end of life, never asking about cruel wars and injured people again.