My ancestral home is in Sichuan.
Everyone says I look like a Mongolian.
Growing up drinking milk from Zhaosu grassland
Since then, my heart is gone.
Hometown and hometown.
When did life begin?
Where does life belong?
I'm just a gift my mother brought to Xinjiang.
To the Great Gobi, the Mouzard River and the Khan Tengger Peak.
Pray that this land will be given to pioneers.
A good day for harvest.
Year after year, day after day
This gift was given to a woman in Luzhou, Sichuan.
She hid me in the depths of time and kept me from others.
Now she has left me for some time.
Do not hesitate to explore another homeland.
That firm expression is just like when my mother entered Xinjiang.
After she left, I heard some homesick days.
Flowers bloom and fall, singing hand in hand.
Later, I followed a long road to the east and then to the south.
Set foot on yellow, brown, black and red land.
Through different towns and cities
See relatives with similar eyebrows and eyes.
Hear the familiar voice of fellow villagers.
Those kind and kind old people
Like my mother or father.
I caught up with them and listened to their stories about their mother.
They saw me as if the earth had disappeared.
From an alien planet
The people closest to them.