Patriotic poetry, medium, not too short or too long

Motherland, my dear motherland Shu Ting

I am the dilapidated old waterwheel by your river,

spinning tired songs for hundreds of years ;

I am the blackened miner's lamp on your forehead, illuminating your groping as you crawl through the tunnel of history;

I am the withered ears of rice, the roadbed in disrepair;

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It is a barge on the silt

The rope is deeply

tied into your shoulders and neck,

--the motherland!

I am poor,

I am sad.

I am your ancestor from generation to generation

The painful hope,

It is the flying "sleeve"

It has not fallen to the ground for thousands of years flower,

--Motherland!

I am your brand-new ideal,

just broke free from the cobweb of myth;

I am the germ of the ancient lotus under your snow quilt;

I am your smile with tears;

I am the newly painted snow-white starting line;

It is the crimson dawn

is gushing;

--O motherland!

I am one billionth of you,

You have fed me with your scarred breasts

I am confused, thoughtful, and boiling Me;

Then obtain from my flesh and blood

your riches, your glory, your freedom;

——My motherland,

My dear motherland!