"My South and North" Snowflakes are still flying in the Daxinganling Mountains, willow branches have sprouted on both sides of the Yangtze River, and flowers are blooming everywhere on Hainan Island. Our motherland is so vast. Ever since I got to know that surging river , I got to know my south and my north. Since I got to know the endless river, I have got to know my north and my south. My south and north are very close to each other, so close that I can see each other across the river. My north and south are far apart, too far to be measured with my feet. The wild geese fly south, shortening my south and north with their wings. The swallow returns, carrying spring mud in its mouth, expressing my north and south. My south is also the south of Li Yu and Liu Yong. A river of spring water flows eastward, and what flows away is the beautiful past and fragrance like falling flowers. When I wake up from the dream, the kind of sadness that is fixed in the willow bank in the morning wind and the waning moon is destined to be fixed in the sad faces of the talented and beautiful women in the south... My north is also the north of Li Bai and Gao Shi. The beacon smoke is billowing, and the war horses are waving their reins. In the August snow of Hutian, northern soldiers riding horses and drinking wine were marching into the battlefield where swords and swords were shining. All the victories and failures finally turned into rows of Populus euphratica under the cold moon at the border... I once walked through Huangshan, Hengshan, Emei, and Yandang, looking for my south. My south is hidden in the depths of awning boats, bluestone bridges, and oil-paper umbrellas. Under the light of the Qinhuai River, I stared at my south. In the bells of Hanshan Temple, I listen to my south. In the soft waves of Fuchun River, I embrace my south. My South! Apricot blossoms, spring rain, small bridges and flowing water, orioles flying and grass growing. I once walked through Tianshan, Kunlun, Changbai, and Taihang, looking for my north. My north is hidden in the depths of loess kilns, window decorations, and yurts. In the Gobi Desert where the trend is blocked, I sing side by side with my north. In the snowy Xing'an Mountains outside the Great Wall, I gazed thoughtfully at the north. In the vast Shanhaiguan, I and my north face each other firmly. My north! There is solitary smoke in the desert, the sun sets over the long river, and the suona sounds loud and clear. Everyone says that our south is rich, but the eternal rice fields and thousands of miles of water towns were watered by the sweat and tears of our fathers, and by the courage and wisdom of the reformers. Whether it is the famous land of plenty, or the small ports of Shenzhen and Wenzhou, the shining names are actually carved on the wrinkles of parents like axes and chisels. People say that my north is poor, but I clearly heard the rumbling call to revitalize the old Northeast and develop the Great Northwest. I heard the old machine tool, which had been out of breath for many years, begin to sing happily again. I heard the labor chants and the Ansai waist drum resounding beside the Jiuqu Yellow River. I heard the sonorous steps of my father's steps after brushing away the beads of sweat with his rough hands. I know, you woke up, my north. From ancient times to the present (from ancient times to the present), the endless river is like a string, playing the ups and downs and vicissitudes of life. In the sound of the southeast wind, my southern rain hits the banana trees, and the lotus fragrance is light, graceful and lingering. In the music of the northwest wind, the snow drifts in my northern wasteland, and the waist drum shakes the sky, dignified and far away.
ah! My south and my north! ah! My north and my south! Our eternal hometown and paradise!