With The Burning Thirsty Poem by Kinsley Lee

At the new dawn, at the back alley
I write thy name, the Democracy
In my brain, I've forgotten thee for a long time
With my steps have cut off thee, too, long time
But only a stream, remains to me
That the memory in my heart which is the thirsty
So I secretly write thy name, the Democracy!

Yet not breaking the day, at the back alley, some places,
Urgent footsteps, whistle sounds, knocking voices,
The shrieks which someone's long and long screaming,
Moaning, wailing, groaning, in that sounding,
That it's engraving in my heart is thy name,
The lonely dazzling on thy name,
It's painful hurt to my living
And the azure memory of the freedom far away on living
And I recollected the friends' bloody faces when they were dragged,

With shivering hands, with shivering heart
By the really shivering and with anger, on the plank
With the chalk and without the knack
I write.

With catching my breathes and sobbing
I write thy name in secretly,
With the burning thirsty,
With the burning thirsty,
"Vivat Democracy! "