You were conceived in wind and rain, you were born in the midst of war. A pair of giant hands lifted you up, baptized you with the water of the Yalu River, and purified you with the snow of the Himalayas. You grew up in the twists and turns, you groped in the darkness of the night. Crossing the oceans, flying into space, letting the five thousand years of civilization embrace the world, so that the light of harmony shines globally. Ah, motherland, sixty years of great years to hone your introverted maturity; ah, motherland, sixty years of progress and hard work to give you endless charm. The stars in the sky are the birthday candles, and the rivers on the earth are the fragrant wine. 1.3 billion sons and daughters raise a glass of **** to wish, the motherland birthday!