I love the calligraphy works of my motherland.

I walked into your beautiful village, my mood flowed with the pipa, and my emotions melted into singing and dancing. I turn into a river with your charm and roll up the surging waves. I sing the glory of the motherland like the rising sun, and I paint you with the giant pen of that era for you. I am bathed in the sunshine of coconut grove in Hainan Island, which is poetic and picturesque. I embrace the aurora night in Heilongjiang, the flame is like fire, and the change is like chardonnay ... I came to Yuan Ye, where you have a vast world, and my ambition is to be a horse; I turned into your open-minded mountains, holding up the peaks and cliffs surrounded by white clouds. I sing the splendor of the motherland like the rising sun. I play for your mountains and leave you with the lens of history. Miss the Uighur girls in Turpan, fluttering like clouds and fragrant as flowers; I love the fishermen's father and daughter on the east coast, fishing songs are like strings, and the cabin is at home. ...