为了忘却,我怎能忘却呵—那囚禁自由和真理的牢笼,那邓恶射向正义的枪声;那“吟罢低眉无写处”的浓黑的恶哀,那刀丛剑树下觅下的诗韵··一。 我曾多次寻觅五烈士长眠的旧址, 手捧木刻《栖牲》作为凭吊的祭文. 巍巍古塔可是你们不倒的身影, 窗摄闪闪可是你们难闭的晶亮的眼睛? Forgotten, how can I forget that--the cage that held freedom and truth, the gunshots that Deng Wei shot toward justice; the deep black grief of “Kneeling down with no eyebrows,” the sword under the tree The poem rhyme one. I have repeatedly searched for the site of the five martyrs’ long sleep, holding the woodcut “perching” as a confession of confession. But you can’t fall down, but you can’t see the window.