The texture of memory suddenly blossomed into a beautiful rose A drop of darkness fell through the old window When moonlight is swallowed by the artificial light, The sharpened hand of despair reduces our childhood to youth.
Lazy arrogance paralyzes, eyes forget to cry- We find love through the lens of capitalism, in ready, hard cash. Our ideals are stolen and our conscience sleeps soundly We roam around in the guise of truth, swallowing the oxygen of falsehood with pride.
Our city is full of dark corporate advertisements Words are censored, and freedom is asleep in the Constitution. Intellectuals thrive on oily flattery, Flowers, birds, and lovers' poses are the stuff of superficial poetry Our dreams are shattered by the Chinese knife-tip of a young delinquent. Creativity gets stuck in the tip of foolish editor's pen News of deaths, murders, and rape consume headlines.
Yet the darkness of despair is lifting, The pale green country will someday become a dreamy utopia Lying in the mud gazing inward, I see my beloved colorful homeland in the eyes of tomorrow's child Hope has not yet disappeared.
