The white sun ends itself against the hills, The Yellow River flows into the sea. The eyes that wish to glean a thousand li – They must climb one more level of the lodge
Oh it is far too easy to be angry, To be young, unshrinking, and unafraid. To march behind high banners and violent song, And die a martyr for another’s crusade.
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, And so I try to hold myself apart. But still these rebel words begin to wander And speak of you, for you live in my heart.