I'm not worried about myself
The bright garden has been dead for a while,
This life is as cold as November.
I'm not worried about myself now,
I'm thinking about children over.
I thought for a day when I was young,
I have lost opportunities transferred.
Like a drop from a grape on the sand,
Even my smile has disappeared.
I am saddened by the grayness of time,
I'm tired of seeing the horrors of man.
Gray days as a horrible lifeline,
I'm tired of seeing gray days then.
Yes, life is cold like winter migration,
But he can't scare a brave person.
It warms my chest with irritation,
My homeland, my country, my land, my son!
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