The Battle

The sun, the moon, the breeze, the beauty,
All failed to cheer us,
All we heard is the cold voice of our leader,
The chirps of birds failed,
The song of the river failed,
The kiss of the rain failed,
Failed to awake the child in us.

Is it the heart of our mother?
Is it the smell of our land?
Is it the cry of our fellow?
That keeps us going.
Hail our motherland,
Hail our citizens,
Hail our legends,
Electrifying words, stole our heart to here.

Now, all that makes us live,
Is our will to live.
The field back home,
The blossom of flower in the backyard,
The laugh of my wife,
Is all that in between me and death.

In the race against time,
A small iron pellet won my heart,
It has won my blood to the sand,
I hear the birds chirp, the rivers song,
Can see the moon light now, with my sight leaving forever.

“One, two, three... One, two, three...”-
My fellows, trying to make my heart sing again,
Now, I can really head back to my home,
To get my flowers blossom with a tear,
To hear my child cry for me,
To see my wife faint with a kiss,
And to kiss my burial land,
With 21 more iron pellets racing against time.

HAIL INDEPENDENCE?