Author Cao Yuxiang
Today, you walked into the square in autumn.
It's late autumn, the weather is getting cold, and chrysanthemums are in bloom.
The wind carried four blue lakes into the air.
In the air, slowly passing through the clouds of fleet.
In the air, the wings of wild geese paddle the sculls of the season.
Greet the ups and downs of the earth with songs
In clear autumn, you see all the people.
Waves in cities, villages and the Pacific Ocean.
Even seeing your childhood, grandma.
On the haystack, a child rang the doorbell.
This Yuan Ye, this river, this fallen leaf, this fruit.
Every day, a national flag is raised in the square.
Every day, this land will grow a ray of sunshine.
Everything is worth it, and you are happy inside.
You smiled and remembered a dream you had.
Who can not love their motherland?
"Motherland", when you gently say the word.
It is equal to telling your destiny, relatives and hometown.
When you say "autumn" with your eyes,
That is time, life, and remoteness.
I love this land, Ai Qing.
If I were a bird,
I should also sing with a hoarse throat:
This land hit by the storm,
This river of sadness and anger will surge forever,
This endless wind,
And the gentle dawn from the forest ...
Then I died,
Even feathers rot in the ground.
Why do I often cry?
Because I love this land deeply. ...
1938 1 1 month17th.