Alone I stand in the autumn cold
On the tip of Orange Island,
The Xiang flowing northward;
I see a thousand hills crimsoned through
By their serried woods deep-dyed,
And a hundred barges vying
Over crystal blue waters.
Eagles cleave the air,
Fish glide under the shallow water;
Under freezing skies a million creatures contend in freedom.
Brooding over this immensity,
I ask, on this bondless land
Who rules over man's destiny?

 

 

 

 

 

 


Home

Resume

Specialty

Achievement

Career Aim

Great China

Favorite Sport

Contact


  Set as Default Homepage
Copyright © 2002 All Rights Reserved.