Motherland, my dear motherland
Shu Ting
I am your dilapidated old waterwheel by the river
Hundreds of years Come and spin the song of exhaustion
I am the blackened miner’s lamp on your forehead
Illuminating your snailing and groping in the tunnel of history
I am shriveled Ears of rice; they are roadbeds in disrepair
They are barges on the shoal
Putting the rope deep
into your shoulders
——My motherland!
I am poverty
I am sorrow
I am your ancestors
The painful hope
Yes "Flying" sleeves
Flowers that have not fallen to the ground for thousands of years
——Motherland
I am your new ideal
Just escaped from the cobweb of myth
I am the germ of the ancient lotus under your snow quilt
I am your laughter nest with tears
I am the newly painted snow-white starting line
It is the crimson dawn
It is gushing
——The motherland
I am you One billionth
is the sum of your 9.6 million square meters
You fed it with your scarred breasts
I am confused, I am deep in thought, I am boiling
Then get it from my flesh and blood
Your wealth, your Glory, your freedom
——Motherland
My dear motherland