Thirty years ago we were eighteen
It was the prime of our youth
Running to the far north
Wearing green military uniforms,
Thirty years ago we were young
As young as a doll
Wearing a fat military uniform
The sleeves are still three rings long,
Thirty years ago we were very young
As young as grass
Moving from the south to the north.
The snowy north,
We know from the map,
The cry of the north wind
It sounds like a wolf howling.
But the heart of a comrade-in-arms
is more sad than the howling of a wolf,
It is cold, biting, and cruel,
There is no place to cry.
Cry tears quietly.
We want to be soldiers,
We stand at attention, take a breath and run, we are high-spirited,
One, two, three, four, our songs fly into the distance.
The north is still the same north,
The poplar trees are already in their prime.
The sorghum from the black soil is dressed in red,
The corn from the black soil is covered with golden color,
The soybeans from the black soil are dressed in plain clothes,
p>
Heishidi’s Xiangri Cai does not bend towards the sun.
Numbers of high-rise buildings
Rows of factory buildings,
Horse carriages flowed by, and horses hooves clattered.
And the trains running in all directions...
We have to admire,
We have to be proud,
The motherland still has Such a strong place makes us feel deeply.
Perhaps it is the need of the motherland,
Perhaps it is the inspiration of the homeland,
We have returned to the south where we were born and raised,
But there is a group of comrades taking root in the north.
Comrades in the north,
Our love is not over,
You will continue to race against the ice and snow.
Put the roots deep,
let the sweat flow into the black soil,
take root there,
bloom there,
p>
The result is there.
A dark face,
Broad shoulders,
Carrying the hope of the family,
Even further north than the north, < /p>
We are deeply proud of you.
The children are not the young eighteen they were back then.
They are a family of three.
When the ice and snow melt,
When spring warms and the flowers bloom,
The wild geese waiting to return to the south
Fly to the south together with the wild geese,
Fly to the coast of the East China Sea,
Fly to the Mother's embrace,
The smiling mother stretches out the old man's hand,
The kind father stretches the wrinkles on his forehead.
Comrades, we applaud and hug you.