这里的阳光,在花瓣上跳荡;这里的春风,在草叶上倘徉;这里倒下的战士,还在大地上沉睡;可战士那悲壮的故事,却时刻叩击着我们的心房…… 年年的清明节,我们都来瞻仰;折来松柏的枝丫,枝丫上似有阳光滑翔;采来美丽的鲜花,花瓣上似有露珠流淌;亲手扎成漂亮的花环,摆放在一座座烈士墓旁;花环凝结着我们的情思,表达我们的哀思和敬仰…… The sunshine here jumps over the petals; the spring breeze here, on the leaves of grass; the fallen soldiers here still fall asleep on the earth; but the tragic story of the warrior is tapping on our heart ... Every year of the Ching Ming Festival, we have come to pay respects; branches to pine and cymbidium, the branches seem to glide in the sun; to the beautiful flowers, the petals seem dew flowing; hand made into a beautiful garland, placed in a martyr Tomb beside; garland condenses our emotions, to express our grief and admiration ......