Sing for the motherland.
Hu Feng was groaning and struggling in the darkness, under heavy pressure, and humiliation. It is my motherland, my motherland that suffers the most!
In the motherland, enduring the spasm of complexion and shortness of breath, and the vast darkness of Asia, like the trees under the storm, we have grown up to have a tomorrow. In order to shake off the heavy load of pain and insult, the ground is as green as the rising sun. Life like grass will make the motherland laugh, your sons and daughters will sing, fight on your land, bleed on your land, at the Marco Polo Bridge, at the south entrance, at the Huangpu River, wherever the enemy's iron hoofs reach,
In the face of the sound of guns and cannons and the roar of bombs - the motherland, for you, for your brave sons and daughters, for tomorrow, I will sing with all my heart: with my gratitude, my sorrow and indignation, my hot tears, my tears may burst out. Living blood on your soil! People say: Throw away the useless pen. However, the motherland means that when I hold a knife or a gun in the mountains and forests, I still have to sing to my heart's content and still listen to the sincere singing of my brothers - facing the storm of iron, fire, and blood. The storm sings out the hatred that simmers in the heart. Sings out the true love that stagnates in the heart. Sings out all the dead scum and filth entangled in your ancient soul. To shake off the burden of pain and insult. For victory, for freedom, for a happy tomorrow. You,
The one who gave birth to me and raised me taught me what love is and what hate is. You made me suffer in love and hate, and you were tossed in pain, but you still gave me hope and strength. my suffering country!
I hope my answer can help you.