Youth Will Rise
Come on! Rise up from your crimson bed,
You little beautiful, florescent and innocent flower,
And hold that sword, which slays deep skies,
And chaff those dark clouds and blow triumph.
Yes, of course, there lies lots of hurdles,
You have to bear many unbearable burdens,
But only that’s how it will enter when you bend,
Towards that light which turns you diamond.
Sometime you will surround by the valleys of darkness,
You have to travel from the words, which carries harshness,
You will be hitted, blooded, scolded and molded,
Take all them in you, they will turn you golden.
When you left broken in the midst of buffons,
Like a fallen flower, which newly sprunged in june,
Then hold the spiritual hand of your lord,
And win every battle and win every heart.
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