At that time, the new China had just been established, and the people all over the country were making their own contribution to the construction of the new China. As a poet, the author wrote the magnificent mountains and rivers of the motherland with a pen and praised the great motherland and the working people.
I opened the window/a flying cloud came in-//with the cold at the bottom of the deep valley/with the elusive glow of the rising sun. For the author who experienced the old society and personally participated in the founding of New China, every morning is a brand-new starting point. The clouds flying out of the window seem to bring not only the cold "chill" at the bottom of the valley last night, but also the gorgeous "unpredictable" brilliance given to it by the rising sun today, giving people an implicit beauty full of imagination.
Through the clouds, the author saw the soldiers standing proudly on the sentry post. Like a cloud, the spear on their shoulders left a deep "frost" last night. Similarly, the spear must also reflect the "elusive sunrise glory." The author didn't write it, but we can imagine the heartfelt smiles on the faces of the soldiers when they see a new day quietly coming.
A new day has come, and the bugle has awakened the sleeping soldiers and the sleeping mountains. Listen-bugles command the initial singing of the mountains with high-pitched voices every day. The author's writing from vision to hearing is actually a spiritual process from external senses to inner feelings. When it is full, it overflows, and the inner joy finally pours out from the pen tip: good morning/frontier//good morning/Ximeng. This is a cry, a cry from the bottom of my heart.