Dear comrades, I miss you. The prone figure is like a mountain, and the short life is as bright as a flower. The torch of spirit has been passed down from generation to generation, the passing breeze is silent, the flowers with drooping heads are in tears, the hot stones still hate the flame, the charred soil hurts the heart, the pine tree says that the fire reflects the red and blue sky, and the mountain says that the soul is extremely shocked.
The earth said that you turned into a radiant flame, and history said that you left an eternal moment. Dear comrades, I miss you, a young smile appeared in front of me. In fact, you haven't, haven't gone far, you will live in the fire of my heart forever, Du. ...