Even if I were a bird, throat hoarse, I would still sing of this land, Our storm-ravaged land, Its indignant rivers ever rolling with grief, Its raging winds never letting up from blowing, And the tenderest dawn coming out of the woods... --Then I die, Leaving my feathers to rot in the soil.
Why is it that I am often full of tears? --I love this land so deeply...
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英译版-周旋久
I Love This Land
Even if I were a bird, throat hoarse,
I would still sing of this land,
Our storm-ravaged land,
Its indignant rivers ever rolling with grief,
Its raging winds never letting up from blowing,
And the tenderest dawn coming out of the woods...
--Then I die,
Leaving my feathers to rot in the soil.
Why is it that I am often full of tears?
--I love this land so deeply...
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