There is also a crimson cloud in the west, just like a gorgeous flower blooming in the sea of clouds. That brilliant bloom is like your tenacious life, but that brilliant shadow will never reach your beautiful years. How beautiful ~ how many spring, summer, autumn and winter, watching your figure fade away. I can't even keep up with your footsteps, looking at your back, and my sigh that is too late echoes far away in the cycle of history. . . . .
I believe, I always believe, Qingling-the mother of our country, I believe that no matter where you go, you will leave beauty.
When We Were Young
On that warm afternoon, you firmly vowed "I want to be like you". Yes, just like you, just like thousands of Qian Qian revolutionaries, fighting for the new regime of equality, fraternity and democracy! This is your oath to Sun Yat-sen and your oath to yourself and your country. I seem to see your beautiful smile, filled with your youth like cardamom.
What I have and what you have.
The most important thing is to bow your head gently. Behind the peach blossom, there is your unswerving affection. When I was a child, the phrase "I want to be like you" became a hymn at the moment you held hands and will always linger in your hearts. Any owl warbler will break down "China can live without me and Soong Ching Ling can live without Sun Yat-sen" before your life and death oath. You regard the revolutionary gunfire as the fireworks of the wedding. That 20-bullet pistol is a gift from your husband, as well as love, affection and care. . . . . . There are 20 bullets in the pistol, of which 19 should be fired at the enemy without hesitation, and the last one should be kept for yourself when necessary. This is your love, which indicates a tragic ending from the beginning of the story. Yes, everything to me and everything to you. In just ten years, it has been stormy, and now it is not what it used to be. I still remember seeing a photo of Mr. Zhongshan holding your hand and smiling shyly at you-girl, with the back wall of an ivy-covered garden behind her. Beautiful moments are always concentrated on film, in your memory and in our hearts. . . . . He is like a rose petal stuck in a page for a long time. The longer the time, the brighter it is, because it is the condensation of love and life. In Peiping in early spring, the wind is still fierce. Hurt your face when you grew up in Jiangnan, and hurt your heart even more. You can't bear to let go of your partner who gets along with you day and night, because you know that this release will separate the long road from life and death.
Zhongshan Qiongyu
I think you are very sad that Mr. Wang has left. You stretch out your hand to wipe the tears from your face and comb the bangs on your forehead. Since then, you have grown from a follower of a revolutionary leader to a fearless warrior in the storm. In order to continue Mr. Wang's path, you said goodbye to your relatives. In the cold Moscow, I saw that your back was a little cold and a little bent. Daughter of four families-you don't even have the money to buy a cotton-padded coat that can keep out the cold. The howling north wind blows up your skirt feet but can't blow away your revolutionary enthusiasm; Qingling, our mother. Do you know how much we want you to run so lonely in a different place? Qingling, our mother. You are so enthusiastic about the cause of * * *, not only spare no effort to practice your husband's "uniting Russia with * * *", but also introduce international friends here. So Ma sent medical skills and wrote Red Star over China, which shocked the world. From then on, you opened a door to the world and let more people know that the * * * Party is not the so-called "green fangs, * * *-property-* *-wife".
Qingling, you never stop, for the sake of national unity, to overthrow all the theories that bully us. Even if the years have left more or less marks on your face, even if the frost outside the window quietly dyed your bun white, you are still celebrating your age, still the mother of our country, and you will always be young and beautiful in our hearts.
In laughter
When the morning sun in the east illuminates this place that has been sleeping for too long, you greet this brilliant dawn with a smile. "Sir, we won ~ this is what you want." You pray silently in your heart and solemnly tell those comrades who are eager to win: the red sun has risen and its road is bright. Spring is ours, and you are hiding in the laughter in the depths of the sea of flowers. Qingling, our national mother, although you have no children, you embrace the world with your maternal love. We will never forget your smile and your love. You will always be our mother.
You gradually walked away, out of our world and into our hearts. Qingling, if time is used to measure the distance between us, I will never catch up with you. Looking at your drifting back, I don't even have time to sigh. I just ask you to allow me to follow in your footsteps and continue your perseverance. It's a big day. I think I will live harder because of love and worship. . . . .
These irregular words are dedicated to our beautiful mother Soong Ching Ling.
Looking for a long time, only prose.
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