Ask for a poem about 129 movement?

Such as erupting volcanoes, they have shaken the earth, and the sound of shouting is still like the midnight mountain wind, rolling up the ebb and flow of dreams of future generations. The burning passion was cast into gloom and silence, and there was a noisy and helpless starlight. In the sunset, deja vu, the swallow returns to the south, and the history books of ancient and modern reincarnation are only a few pages. When gold coins run over moral desires, they smash the sacredness, and some people are eager to rebuild this sacredness. Chivalrous ideals naively run a copy of his beliefs, but he insists that no one can become great through imitation. Any greatness will be distorted by blind actions in the swift river, but rational sails can sail far, books can read all the vicissitudes of history and write all the articles on earth. This is a thousand-year-old legend-commemorating the December 29th Movement tonight. Turning to the sixty-seventh page of heavy history, I should still remember days of our lives along the stormy red track, facing the biting north wind. The sound like an iron horse began to sprout in my eardrum. At that time, it was still awake. At that time, there were scars everywhere. At that time, the face was only numb, hovering on the edge of national subjugation and extinction. Die? Is it? Fight? My most beloved brothers and sisters, with their pioneering attitude and heroic breath, inquired about their souls from Peiping, Tianjin and Northeast China and generated that young heart. Endless thunder pierced the scalding chests of countless people who were unwilling to be slaves. Get up-get up-stand up. You can see that the underground magma has been surging forever, which indicates a solemn oath: give me back my rivers and mountains, a pious baptism of blood and fire in this country where the sun rises! ! ! Temper the sword with heroism, and cast a towering monument with green blood.