If I were a seagull, I would imitate poetry.

Walking on the loess slope with seven ditches and eight beams, I am a fresh Pojun by the Yellow River.

Stepping down from the high plateau, I am Cang Yue on the iceberg.

Coming from the vast grassland, I am a Ryukyu star soaring under the blue sky.

Walking out of the treasure island embraced by the blue waves, I am February in the sea breeze.

Walking from the holy and magnificent Tianshan Mountains, I am a snow lotus proudly blooming in the frost.