RADICALS

It’s no wonder Flies and mites should shiver in the winds
Around the capital a furious storm is on the rise.
Let each gun find place in our heroes hands
The 53 year old loathed reign revolutionaries to bring to a close.
The western lake is bright in the moonlight
The central mountain’s equal to heavens in height
Heavy casualties should not our radicals deter
By Generation after generation homage is often paid to the latter.

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