In the infinite sad sunset, the homeland is desolate, and the remaining pink is red.
Jingou Royal Water from the west and east, last year Chen Palace, this year Sui Palace.
The past thought about the air, the flying feathers were merciless, and the smoke cage was still there.
The long, short leaves are green and thick, only to pass the west wind, and then to the east wind.
Editor's sigh: Xia Wanchun was a poet in the late Ming and early Qing dynasties, who only lived for 17 years, but we only recommend poetry, not history, and those who are interested can search for themselves. Infinite sadness, the desolation of the homeland, it is said that the suffering of the subjugation of the country, the beautiful scenery of the mountains and rivers, all belong to the hands of others, what else is there to say? The beauty we can appreciate is the beauty of liberal democracy, not the beauty of human appreciation. For the country, everyone should be loyal and unite against hostile forces, even if it is only through the west wind and the east wind, I will not move.
