Chapter 4 Four

I'm your dilapidated old waterwheel by the river Spinning tired songs for hundreds of years I am the blackened miner's lamp on your forehead As you grope in the tunnel of history I am a shriveled ear of rice; I am a roadbed in disrepair barge on silt deep cut into your shoulders — Motherland! i am poor i am sad I am your grandparents painful hope It is "Flying" sleeve Flowers that have not fallen to the ground for thousands of years —— Motherland I am your new ideal Just broke free from the spider web of myth I am the germ of your snow-covered ancient lotus

I am your laughing hole with tears I am the new white starting line it's crimson dawn gushing —— Motherland I'm one billionth of you It is the sum of your 9.6 million square meters with your scarred breasts fed up I am confused, I am thinking, I am boiling Then from my flesh and blood to get your riches, your glory, your freedom —— Motherland my dear motherland Put a pearl oyster in my trembling palm, Like the goose-yellow tears dripping from the sea... When the waves leave with hatred, Choking on the white breast of the earth, It is the hot tear in the hero's eye,

And as faithful as a hero, jealous sunshine It can never be turned into a drop of water; When the waves come cheering, The earth welcomes her lover with open arms, It is the golden branch and jade leaf in the arms of a girl, And as passionate as a girl's heart, cruel years Never let its petals wither. it is countless embraces, Many weeping farewell, Among countless sorrows and joys, Most sublime stanza cast away; It is countless foggy mornings, countless rainy nights, for countless ages The most harmonious music ever forgotten. throw out- loser's heart, stand up -

Monument to the victors. It has seen bloody glory, It records great sins. it's so great, its patterns, its colors, Encompassing the vast universe, Summarizes the vast world; It is so small, as pure as my lines, The wind whipped me terribly, I can never get it back from my hand. Like yellow tears from the sea, In the palm of my trembling hand, I put a pearl oyster... at dusk in april Groups of green melodies flow low back in canyon wandering in the sky If the soul is overflowing with echoes why bother to search Sing if you want to sing, but please gently, lightly, gently April evening

like a lost memory maybe have a date Not yet on schedule maybe once in love rather than promise If you want to cry, you cry, let the tears flow, flow, silently Your pale fingertips caress my temples I can't help it like when I was a child hold your skirt tightly Oh mother In order to keep your fading figure Although the dawn has cut the dream into smoke I still dare not open my eyes for a long time I still cherish that bright red scarf I'm afraid washing it will make it lose your unique warmth Oh mother The flowing water of the years is also ruthless I'm afraid that the memory will also fade

How dare I open its painting screen so easily For a thorn I cried to you Now with a crown of thorns, I dare not dare not groan Oh mother I often look up at your picture sadly Even if calling can penetrate the loess How dare I disturb your sleep I dare not display the sacrifice of love like this Although I wrote many songs For the flowers, for the sea, for the dawn Oh mother my sweet and deep remembrance Not a torrent, not a waterfall It is a dry well that cannot sing in the shade of flowers and trees With a lily that I know well (Petals fall on the windowsill) -cause me confused

with the breath that seems to blow in the ear (buries face deeply in hands) - takes my breath away even with a simple etude (Mom's hand, the wind is outside the window) - Oh, I can finally cry again with neglected details enlightenment it's back, my passion ——a poem in fragments