I'm not worried about myself

The bright garden has been dead for a while, This life is as cold as November. I'm not worried about myself now, I'm thinking about children over. I thought for a day when I was young, I have lost opportunities transferred. Like a drop from a grape on the sand, Even my smile has disappeared. I am saddened by the grayness of time, I'm tired of seeing the horrors of man. Gray days as a horrible lifeline, I'm tired of seeing gray days then. Yes, life is cold like winter migration, But he can't scare a brave person. It warms my chest with irritation, My homeland, my country, my land, my son!