Love collective love life poem

The first morning in October is in front of Tiananmen Square.

I feel the aftertaste of sweet-scented osmanthus and the sound of bumper harvest drums.

I recall the historical sound carved on white marble.

My mind has changed.

Flying clouds

vast territory of the motherland

How can I not cultivate my beautiful character and integrity? !

The rising October has been contested in Qian Fan.

And my singing, my motherland.

Become a flock of flying white doves

Full of vibration

shake ...