Enthusiasm of the abandoned capital

In the lost world,

Culture is not a decoration,

It was the last education to survive.

On the collapsed pillar of the theater,

Someone carved a poem,

On the windowsill of the broken school building,

Someone taught me the melody.

If you lose your words, you will become a beast.

If you forget beauty, you will become rubble.

That's why people are still in the city of ashes,

I hugged an old book.

In the back alley of the burned-out capital,

The man knocks on the rusty keyboard.

For each note,

The destroyed civilization breathes back to life.

Not anger,

It's not a desire,

The heat of being a person.

Someone called it.

Enthusiasm for the abandoned capital.