The familiar local accent tightens our nostalgia.
The similar faces are the continuation of blood.
For thousands of years, we have lived in this barren land. On the land,
Come and go, sad and happy, carrying out the relay of life.
The broad mountains are sprinkled with tireless sweat.
The crops are filled with primitive joy.
The picture of the harvest is in our eyes. In my heart, I describe it over and over again,
The ups and downs are tasted in the midnight cabin.
When war, plague and disaster come,
We feel so miserable and powerless,
Wiping away the tears of farewell to our loved ones,
< p>In order to make a living, we pick up the sowing hoe again.The dead are dead,
The living are still filled with the hope of survival.
The numerous tombs are just memories of the past.
This is the unchangeable direction, destination and eternal sigh.
The grass has turned green and yellow again,
The wheat has been harvested, and corn has been planted again.
What remains unchanged are the thick mountains and the rolling waves. 'Water,
What changes is different people and different footprints.
The spring breeze is still coming back,
The summer rain is still dripping heartily,
The autumn wind has suppressed the rushing vitality,
The winter snow is pregnant with Another cycle of seasons.
We are just passers-by,
The land is tired of our intertwining of life and death,
It watches us silently, calmly and indifferently,
It’s like watching different movies or plays.
Life is like a play, and play is like life.
From birth to death, we are real actors.
We laugh when we need to laugh, and weep when we need to cry. ,
The joys and sorrows are performed unconsciously.
When death comes slowly, when life loses its vitality,
Money, power, status, fame,
these pursuits seem pale. Powerless,
Only family love is the best comfort at this time.
From youth to gray on the temples,
From pointing out the country to being powerless,
Only then do we realize that human beings face their own destiny and ending.
It is so fragile, so pale.
The smiles of friends, the encouragement of classmates,
The friendship of comrades, the blood and voice of relatives,
are the eternal collections and true remembrances,
p>
Others no longer belong to me and are gradually moving away.
My fellow countrymen, my memories connected by blood,
The past has passed, the future is mysterious in the unknown,
The wheels of history are still squeaking Never stop,
Walk through mountains and rivers, through joy and sorrow!
Smelling the smell of smoke from grandpa’s smoking pot,
Listening to the squeaking of grandma’s spinning wheel,
My fellow villagers, I Brothers of life and death and ***,
Let us be courageous and fearless on the road of life!