Hawk
Fireworks been played days and nights,
In these non-festivals days.
Road roller rolled over ground,
Celebrate the pleasure of death.
Hail abandoned from the sky,
Grin hideously.
Lost in the yellow fog,
A few green flowers.
The moment of wire short,
Desert no longer fearful.
The brightest spark in bulb's life,
Blood flow together to the endlessness.
The Internationale increased 8 pitches in a night,
Bury songs get famous within a day.
Peace dove smells ready for bite,
Remember:
This is an era of hawk.
by Feng Jiang