I use my broken palm
to feel this vast land:
This corner has been turned into ashes,
The other corner is only blood and mud;
This lake is supposed to be my hometown,
(In spring, the embankment is like a brocade of blossoms,
the tender willow branches are broken with strange fragrance)
I touch the coldness of the water of Nymphoides and the coolness of the water;
The snowy peaks of Changbai Mountain are cold to the bone;
The snowy peaks of Changbai Mountain are cold to the bone.
I touch the yellow floating heart and the water's coolness;
The snowy peaks of this Changbai Mountain are cold to the bone,
The water of this Yellow River slips out of my fingers with mud and sand;
The watery fields of the south of the Yangtze River were so soft that they are now only covered with artemisia;
The lychee flowers of the south of the Yangtze pined away in loneliness.
End yonder, I dip into the bitter waters of the South China Sea without fishing boats ......
The invisible palm sweeps over the hateless rivers and mountains,
Fingers stained with blood and ash, palms stained with gloom,
Only that far-off corner of the world remains intact,
Warm, bright, sturdy and vigorous Spring is born.
On that, I caressed it with my crippled palm,
like the soft hair of a lover, the milk of a baby's hand.
I put all my strength in the palm of my hand
Attached to it, with love and all hope,
For there alone is the sun, the spring,
Which will banish the gloom, and bring forth the rebirth,
For there alone we do not live like cattle,
Die like ants... ...there, eternal China!
Shu Ting, "My Motherland, My Dear Motherland"
I am the worn-out old waterwheel on your river
spinning a tired song for hundreds of years;
I am the smoky miner's lamp on your forehead
shining on your snail's pace through the tunnels of history;
I am the parched ear of rice; I am a disrepairing roadbed; I am a barge on the silty beach
I am a barge on the river, a barge on the river; I am a barge on the river, a barge on the river.
I am the barge on the silted beach
that pulls the rope deep
into your shoulders;
- O Motherland!
I am poor,
I am sad.
I am the hope of your grandparents'
pain,
the flower that has not fallen to the ground for thousands of years between the sleeves of the "Flying Sky";
--O motherland!
I am your new ideals,
fresh from the cobwebs of myths;
I am the germ of the ancient lotus under the blanket of snow;
I am the smile of your tears;
I am the freshly-painted, snow-white starting line;
the crimson dawn
spewing out;
--O Motherland! -- O Motherland!
I am one billionth of you
the sum of your nine and six hundred thousand squares;
with your bruised breasts
you feed
the perplexed, the thoughtful, the seething me;
then from my flesh and blood
go and gain
your; riches, your glory, your freedom;
--O motherland,
my dear motherland!
Guo Moruo, "Coal in the Furnace"
Ah, my young lady!
I will not fail you in your solicitude,
and you will not fail me in my thoughts.
I have burned to this likeness for my beloved
!
Ah, my young lady!
Thou shouldst have known my former self?
Do you not think me a nigger reckless?
It is in my nigger's breast
that I have a heart of fire.
Ah, my young woman!
I think my predecessor
was a useful man,
I have been buried in the earth for many years,
and now I see the light of day again.
Ah, my young lady!
Since I have seen the light of day again,
I have often thought of my native land,
and I have burned in this state for the one I love.
I am a young woman, a young woman, a young woman, a young woman, a young woman, a young woman, a young woman, a young woman, a young woman, a young woman, a young woman, a young woman!
Wen Yiduo, "Sun Chant" (excerpt)
O sun - the golden bird of divine speed - the sun!
Let me ride you around the earth once a day, and
I will be able to see my home once a day!
Wen Yiduo, "A Word"
There is a word that is a curse, and there is a word that can light a fire.
Don't look at the five thousand years without saying it,
Can you guess the silence of the volcano?
Maybe it's suddenly possessed,
Suddenly a thunderbolt in the blue sky
exploded:
"Our China!"
What am I supposed to say today?
If you don't believe in the blossoming of the iron tree,
then there is one thing you should listen to:
When the volcano can't hold back its silence,
don't shiver, stick out your tongue, and pause your feet,
wait until there's a thunderbolt from the blue sky
Blasting out:
"Our China. "
Ai Qing, "I Love This Land"
If I were a bird,
I should sing with a hoarse throat:
This storm-battered land,
The river that is always raging with our grief,
The winds of anger that blow endlessly,
And the unmistakable Gentle Dawn ......
-and then I died,
and even the feathers rotted inside the earth.
Why do I often have tears in my eyes?
Because I love this land so much ......
[Taiwan] Huang Yonglian, Chinatown
is a harbor
specializing in the Chinese accent
No need to ask where the guest came from
Light yellow complexion brightly lighted with the light yellow color of the Yangzhou stagecoach Yangzhou, a city in the middle of China.
The stagecoach of Yangzhou
The palace of Chang'an
After it has become a kindred spirit
The wind is the sound of history
Listening to it like
A dreamy song
It is a castle that will never be garrisoned
A collection of China's twenty-four flowers
You're an orchid that takes root without soil
Drinking frost and snow.
Drinking the cold of frost and snow
Blooming the fragrance of the Orient
The flag standing distinctly like the waves of the Yellow River flowing eastward, always facing the side of the sun
is a splendid bas-relief
Bright with the yellow glaze of Yangshao of the Yinxian ruins
Smoke and clouds are changing
Like the messenger who goes out of the Jade Gate Pass in the west
The sea is the Silk Road in your heart.
Pang Yu-liang, "In the Center of the Cornfield"
In the center of the cornfield
I am a youthful general
Looking at the red tassels and the green swords dancing in the field
The fruits of the field are hidden underneath the red tassels and the green swords
Before they reveal their teeth
We can read their language. Their language
Ordinary days without the deceased
Only the wind blowing, blowing the corn's endless long hair
In the middle of the cornfield
We gained the strength to overcome tomorrow
The corn leaves are still whipping me
Golden cobs are clattering in the boiling water
What a beautiful day!
It reminds me of what a wonderful **** and country
In the middle of the cornfield
The cornfield tilts down on the map of **** and country
Countless battles and victories
Then it shines on us forever
The Autumn of the Motherland
Written by Cao Yuxiang
Today you walk on foot into the square of the fall
It's late fall, the days have turned cooler, the chrysanthemums are opening
The wind carries four blue lakes into the air
In the air, slowly sailing through the fleet of cloudy haze
In the air, the geese's wings paddle the oars of the seasons
Greeting the earth's undulating song with a sing-song voice
In the clarity of the autumn you see all the people
Cities, villages, Pacific waves
Even see your distant childhood, grandmother
Haystacks, a child ringing a bell
The wilderness, the river, the leaves, the fruits
Every day a flag is raised in the square
Every day a round of light grows on the land
It's all worth it, the happiness inside
You smile
Who can't love their motherland
"Motherland", when you softly say this word
It's the same as saying your destiny, your loved ones, your hometown
And when you look at your eyes and say "Autumn! "
That's the years, life, ah, far away