Yesterday, someone asked me who I was.
I always don't want to answer
Because I'm afraid
I am afraid of being laughed at by the children in the city.
Their parents send them to school.
Honk the horn all the way.
Either drive a Honda or a Jetta.
Our parents send us to school.
Don't talk all the way.
The trouser legs were stuck on the scooter with mud.
Our campus is very small
Cann't let go of the pommel horse
Our classroom is dark.
The light is only a few watts.
Our chairs are very old.
Sit on it and squeak.
But our homework is neat.
Our grades are good.
Someone wants to ask me who I am today.
I want to tell him loudly.
I am the child of a migrant worker.
China's baby, the flower of the motherland.
The sky is clearer and the sun is brighter.
Grandpa Wen wrote an inscription for us.
I hope this project can spread love for us.
No more bowing, no more fear
Speak our hearts.
Ask me what I want to say most.
I love my mother, and I love my father.
Because-
It is mother who sweeps the roads in the capital wider and wider.
Because-
It was dad who built the tall buildings in Beijing.
Beijing's 2008,
This is also our 2008,
The teacher set her music,
The students painted her into a picture,
We wrote this in the composition class,
Others compare with my parents, and I will compare with others tomorrow.
Migrant children, like children in cities,
They are all treasures of China and flowers of the motherland.
Dear grandparents and parents,
Children all over the country,
I paid a New Year call to you.