If I should die, think only this of me :

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is forever Formosa, the beautiful isle! There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed

A dust whom Taiwan bore, shaped , and made aware

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,

A body of Taiwan’s , breathing Taiwanese air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.