You are the dilapidated old waterwheel by the river
Spinning tired songs for hundreds of years
You are the blackened miner’s lamp on your forehead
p>
Slowly groping in the tunnel of history
You are a withered ear of rice; a roadbed in disrepair
A barge on the silt
Stretch the rope deeply into our shoulders
——Motherland! My suffering motherland!
You are poverty
You are sorrow
You are the painful hope of our ancestors
Yes "Flying" Sleeves
Flowers that have not fallen to the ground for thousands of years
——O motherland! My suffering motherland!
You are a brand-new ideal
About to break free from the cobweb of myth
You are the germ of the ancient lotus under the snow quilt
You are a nest of laughter with tears
You are the newly painted white starting line
You are the crimson dawn
It is gushing
——Motherland! My motherland full of hope!
I am one 1.6 billionth of you
I am the sum of your 9.6 million square kilometers
You use your scarred breasts
Feed
I am confused, I am thinking deeply, I am boiling
Then get it from my flesh and blood
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Your wealth, your glory, your freedom
——Motherland! My dear motherland!