There is a sound that rolls around in the heart.
There is a sound that reverberates in the ears.
There is a thought that entangles in madness.
There is a kind of - there is a kind of dream - the Gesang flower of the plateau.
Whether you reflect the red face of the ama, mellow barley wine ah, has drunk my Aba.
I would like to become an eagle and fly to the white clouds and blue sky.
I would like to be an eagle and fly to my home on the other side.
There is a longing that stirs in the heart.
There is a yearning that gives me wings.
There is a kind of power that pushes me upwards
There is a kind of - there is a kind of spirit that lets me soar in sound and color
The song of the plateau, is it still long and misty,
The tap of the snowy region, is it still so enthusiastic and exuberant.
I would like to become an eagle and fly over thousands of mountains.
I'd like to be an eagle and fly to Lhasa, where I'm looking forward to.
I would like to become an eagle and fly over thousands of mountains.
I would like to become an eagle and fly to Lhasa, where I long to be. Huo Laowu copywrite