声音简介
I would chant with my husky voice:
The Land stricken by the tempest,
The river surging our sorrow and rage,
The wind blowing wrathfully and unceasingly,
And the tender dawn gratefully from the woods…
— Then, I would perish,
With my feathers even rotten in the soil.
Why am I always in my eyes brimming tears?
Because I love the Land so dearly…
November, 17th, 1938
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