Motherland, my dear motherland, I am your dilapidated old waterwheel by the river, spinning tired songs for hundreds of years. I am the blackened miner's lamp on your forehead, shining on you as you snail in the tunnel of history. I am a shriveled rice ear groping; I am a roadbed in disrepair and a barge on the shoal, and I am the rope that has been deeply inserted into your shoulders - my motherland! I am poverty, I am sorrow, I am the painful hope of your ancestors for generations, I am the flower on the sleeves of "Flying Sky" that has not fallen to the ground for thousands of years - the motherland, I am your brand-new ideal, just broke free from the cobweb of myth, I am you The germ of ancient lotus under the snow, I am your laughing nest with tears, I am the newly painted snow-white starting line, the crimson dawn is gushing out - Motherland, I am one billionth of you, you are 9.6 million The sum of the squares, you fed the confused me with your scarred breasts, the thoughtful me, the boiling me, then I will get your richness, your glory, your freedom from my flesh and blood - Motherland, my dear Motherland
Is the motherland okay?