We love you China! When the brilliant sun jumps out of the blue waves of the East China Sea, the stars are still twinkling on the Pamir Plateau. When the northern kingdom was still a world covered in silver, the southern border was already filled with spring scenery. Ah—we love you, China! We love you - the strange and beautiful scenery of Guilin, the rich and light makeup of West Lake in Hangzhou; the misty clouds and mists of Huangshan and Lushan Mountains, and the majestic waves of the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers. We love you - the fragrance of Longjing tea, the purity of Maotai wine; the smoothness and splendor of Jiangnan silk, the ingenuity of Jingdezhen ceramics. We love you - the watery moonlight in front of the Dai bamboo house, the towering Potala Palace on the roof of the world; the grapes in Turpan, the melons in Hami, the sheep in the prairie, and the camels in the Gobi Desert. We love you - the ancient tune played by the bells of the Warring States Period, the new song composed by the Reform and Opening-up, the rolling spring tide surging thousands of miles across China, the fire of hope lit by the motherland, We love you - the history written by struggle, the fruits watered by sweat, the pine tree We are proud of your great stature, the nobility of plum blossoms, your broad mind, and your magnificent spirit. We are proud of our efforts. We have opened up. You are the strong one in the forest of nations in the world. We love you, China! Dai Wangshu "I use my damaged palms" I use my damaged palms to explore this vast land: This corner has turned into ashes, that corner is just blood and mud; this lake should be my hometown, (in spring, flowers bloom on the embankment) (The young willow branches have a strange fragrance when they are broken,) I feel the coolness of the algae and the water; the snow peaks of Changbai Mountain are so cold that they are bone-chilling; the water of the Yellow River with mud and sand slips out between my fingers; the paddy fields in the south of the Yangtze River, so Soft... now there is only basil; the lychee flowers in Lingnan are lonely and haggard. Over there, I am dipped in the bitter water of the South China Sea without fishing boats... The invisible palms pass over the hateless mountains and rivers, the fingers are stained with blood and ashes, and the palms are stained with darkness , only that distant corner is still intact, warm, clear, strong and vigorous in spring. On it, I caress it gently with my damaged palm, like the soft hair of a lover or the milk in a baby's hand. I put all my strength into my palms and put them on it, sending love and all hope, because only there is the sun and spring, which will drive away the darkness and bring revival, because only there we will not live like animals and die like ants... …there, the eternal China! "Motherland, My Dear Motherland" by Shu Ting I am your dilapidated old waterwheel by the river that has been 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. Groping; I am a shriveled ear of rice; I am a roadbed in disrepair; I am a barge on the shoal that pulls the rope deeply into your shoulders; - Motherland! I am poor, I am sad. I am the painful hope of your ancestors for generations, the flower on the sleeves of "Flying Sky" that has not fallen to the ground for thousands of years; - Motherland! I am your new ideal, just freed from the cobweb of myth; I am the germ of your ancient lotus; I am your smile with tears; I am the newly painted snow-white starting line; I am the crimson dawn. Is gushing; ——Motherland! I am one billionth of you, the sum of your 9.6 million square meters; you have fed the confused, thoughtful, and boiling me with your scarred breasts; then get it from my flesh and blood. Yours; your wealth, your glory, your freedom; - Motherland, my dear motherland! <
My motherland, my lovely China, you have created a glorious history, you have raised a great nation