You use a line as a pen.
Draw an eighteen-year-old dream on a pole.
Standing in the scenery
You use land to make paper.
Write a poem of youth on the cliff
Let the rhythm and breeze fly
You use blood as ink.
Spread the rolling heat through Qianshan.
Write an eternal song:
Wanjiadeng Deng Nan Wang Shenqing
Poems praising electric workers