Motherland, my dear motherland.
I am your shabby old waterwheel by the river.
Old songs that have been spun for hundreds of years.
I am a miner's lamp with your forehead blackened.
When you grope in the tunnel of history.
I am a withered ear of rice; This is a roadbed that is in disrepair.
This is a barge on the beach.
Draw the rope deep
Pull it into your shoulder
-the motherland!
I am very poor.
I am sad
I am your ancestor.
Painful hope.
It's a flying sleeve.
Flowers that never fall to the ground for thousands of years
-the motherland!
I am your brand-new ideal.
Just broke free from the mythical spider web.
I am the germ of your ancient lotus under the snow.
I am your tearful smile.
I am the newly painted white starting line.
This is crimson dawn.
Spraying
-the motherland!
I am one billionth of you.
Is the sum of your 9.6 million square meters.
With your scarred breasts,
raise
Lost me, considerate me, boiling me.
And then from my flesh and blood
get
Your richness, your glory, your freedom.
-the motherland,
My dear motherland!
Haizi's dream is a horse (this poem is also called the motherland).
I want to be a loyal son from afar
And temporary material lovers.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I have to walk with martyrs and clowns.
on the way
Everyone should put out the fire.
I will do it alone.
The fire was held high.
This fire is great.
Bloom and die in the sacred motherland.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I spent the long nights of my life with this fire.
This fire is great.
The language of the motherland and throwing stones at others.
Deliangshan Chengzhai
Dunhuang with dreams as its soil-the skeleton that will be cold in July.
Such as white firewood, hard snow.
On the sacred mountain
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I plunged into the fire.
This Three Lamps District has imprisoned me.
Spit out brilliance
Ten thousand people will go through my knife to build the language of the motherland.
I am willing to start from scratch.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I'd also like to sit at the bottom of the prison.
Of all God's creations, only I am the most perishable.
At an irresistible rate of death
Only food is my baby, and I hold her tightly.
Hold her and have a baby in your hometown.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I would also like to bury myself in the surrounding mountains.
See a quiet home
Facing the river, I am infinitely ashamed.
I wasted my years and felt very tired.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
Time flies, not a drop remains.
The horse is dead.
If I am reborn on the shore of my motherland in a thousand years.
A thousand years later, I once again owned the rice fields in China.
Kicking Zhou's snowy mountain Tianma
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I choose an eternal career.
My job is to be the life of the sun.
From ancient times to the present-Japan-he is extremely brilliant.
Extremely bright, like all poets who take dreams as horses.
Finally, it was carried into the immortal sun by the gods at dusk.
The sun is my name.
The sun is my life.
The body of the poem is buried at the top of the sun-the Millennium Kingdom and me.
Riding a 5,000-year-old phoenix and a dragon named "Horse"
-I will fail.
But poetry itself will overcome the sun.