I love my motherland, and I also love its natural scenery.
I love not only the mountains and rivers of the motherland, but also every grass, tree, flower, stone, brick and tile, which are worthy of my nostalgia and care.
Not to mention the forests in Russia, the oceans in Britain, the lakes in Finland and the islands in Indonesia. China has its own magnificent and great natural picture.
We have Mount Everest with thousands of years of snow on our heads, a vast loess plateau, a lush Xishuangbanna, an endless North China Plain, a mighty Yangtze River, a virgin forest in Xing 'an Mountains, a coconut grove in Hainan, a vast green pasture in northwest provinces, and endless rivers, lakes and swamps in the motherland! Which place is not run by the hands of workers, and which place is not filled with the sweat of workers and the blood of soldiers?
I love the land of our motherland! Strong winds swept it, hail hit it, frost and snow blocked it, fire burned it, heavy rain washed it, and imperialist shells bombarded it. However, despite the hardships, I persisted silently. As soon as spring comes, it wakes up again and confidently presents a scene of prosperous business and blooming flowers.
This is the motherland's answer to the workers: bare mountains are covered with dark green clothes, hills are turned into green stacks, valleys into vast lush fields, swamps into mirror-like lakes, mountains are stacked to show obedience, and violent rivers are willing to run. ...
The mountains and rivers of the motherland always have feelings for us. Every time we sing them a song, they always respond with equal loudness and enthusiasm.
I love the working people of my motherland. They open up wilderness, grow food, pick rivers or dig wells to feed me.
I miss my mother. She fed me with her breast milk, and she stroked my head with a big slap. To this day, I can still feel the temperature in her arms.
I love the culture of my motherland. Sometimes, when reading the famous sentences in China's poems, I feel the most subtle feelings, grasp the thought that is thought-provoking, imagine the beautiful picture, feel the sonorous rhythm and melodious rhythm, and appreciate the indescribable charm. When I read it proudly, I don't want to say it over and over again. Carefree, fascinating. I shed tears when it touched my heart.
I love the language of my motherland. Every word of it is closely related to my life, with my heartbeat.
From the simplest sentence, I can think of a long line of corridors, a series of mountains, forests, cottages, fields, ponds and lakes.
I have been away from my motherland for several years. In those days, I really can't tell you how much I miss my motherland. This kind of nostalgia is both pain and happiness. What hurts is the comrades who are far away from the motherland and the mountains and rivers of the motherland; Happiness is having such a great motherland that I miss it.
Nature of the motherland often changes its clothes. In spring, it wears colorful clothes; Summer, covered with lush and light summer clothes; In autumn, it wears a golden red solemn dress; I changed into a simple white robe in winter.
The change of seasons in nature promotes the growth of new things.
This is the news of spring: look! The branches turned slightly blue, and insects began to sound outside the window. I know that a new generation of insects are celebrating their new happiness in my familiar language.
In spring, I walked to the window in the warm and humid breeze and asked about my health. "Thank you, lovely spring," I said.
How soft, lush and full of vitality the green spring grass is! Its green grass color extends to the distant horizon that the footprints of spring can reach. ...
Therefore, grass can cause many associations and reverie more than flowers.
Lush flowers and trees cover the ancient tombs, and moss covers the broken bricks and tiles. The world has changed, but spring is always circulating. ?
In the early morning of summer, the rural girl walked barefoot, stepping on the crystal dew on the grass and carrying a bucket of water covered with a silver stream. Larks are singing in the sky, and the morning glow shines on her bright red cheeks.
What a simple beauty of workers!
It's cold in the middle of the night in summer, and I've fallen asleep.
Suddenly I heard the moon knocking on my window and quietly told me that your son was playing the accordion in the Woods of the mountain village and having a Children's Day party with the children in the countryside. ...
In autumn, golden red fruits and colorful yellow leaves are everywhere. But it also makes people feel a little tired, because some trees have too many children.
On the clear autumn night, the feather clouds in the sky are like gauze, and the breeze slowly drags across the Tianhe River, and countless stars in the Tianhe River are extinguished. ?
The close-up of the world makes people forget the vastness of the sky!
Can't snow lotus get out under the ice peak and snow ridge? What do you think of it, compared with the water lilies on the rippling spring?
In the Huamu Palace, bees are buzzing there. I think this is the song of workers!
Question answer:?
Huang (1903— 1987) is a modern political activist, famous writer and poet in China.
In the early 1980s, Mr. Huang, who was 80 years old, was still full of youth and thoughts, and his love for his motherland and hometown became deeper and deeper, so he wrote this ode to the mountains and rivers of his motherland. The article takes the motherland as the object of praise, the magnificent and beautiful mountains and rivers of the motherland as the content of praise, adopts panoramic painting and communication methods, and reveals the author's patriotism between the lines, which is full of blood and affection of the sons and daughters of the motherland.
Someone said, "People in love are all poets." The words written by people who love the motherland are beautiful poems. This article is an example.