Following the blood and tears of February Twenty-Eighth,
The earth’s grievances in we breathe,
The Gods’ light emerges as the Formosa Sun,
Though it can make the demons of imperial colonialism no where to escape but dawn,
Devils in powdered masquerade,
To the righteous and honest Formosan do they deceptively persuade.
Into the Red Tide and an ocean of blood Taiwan sinks,
The Hell’s Gate finally becomes the modern Three Direct Links.
Direct flight turns into a cruise ship of evil.
Among the dizzying darkness and thickening mists, the first gleams of morning light appear.
‘Tis our only hope: to build the Holy Mountain.
(Written on 2008/12/16)