Red song poetry recitation

The road of the Long March has been winding from the history books, ten times more tortuous than the Yellow River. A team wearing sandals finally entered the stadium along that road in the sonorous national anthem. This road has huge roots and is buried in some memoirs. Many old people's wrinkled faces are covered with traces of those roots, which were trampled by straw sandals, trampled the snow-capped mountains and turned the grassland into a park. The territory of China is red. In the narrowest part of the root system, there is a powerful thought slowly transitioning from the chain. Some gunshots turned into seeds and were buried around those thoughts loudly. Countless lives are as green as leaves on the roots. Countless blood emerges from the bottom of the root system like flowers. Countless heads hang from the top of the root system, following the lush root system. I am familiar with those fruits. Chewing those fruits, I gradually understand how some millet nourishes a political party and how several rifles support an army. I only heard that sentence recited by the great man in the red chamber in the movie. This is a real poet. The poet's poem made a lot of tears fall to the ground, so the flagpole under the red chamber became the straightest one among many roots. That road is not the longest poem of the poet. It is actually a needle, sewing the perseverance and tenacity of the whole nation together tightly.