I wish. . . . . .

I am willing to turn the wind into the ancient wilderness of your chaos.

I am willing to make rain in the transpiration of your Yellow River water.

I am willing to make the horses on the irons of Ji Sihan.

Wave you to the front

I am willing to turn into a wooden paddle on Zheng He’s sea boat.

Carrying your heavy ancient civilization to the Western Ocean

I am willing to turn into the mottled walls of the Great Wall that cross the ridges and wear the wilderness.

Protecting you from the insults of blood and tears

I am willing to become the Hanbai granit on the Monument to the People's Heroes.

Raise your unyielding national backbone

I am willing to make a five-star shining on the bauhinia.

I am willing to make the Olympic flag flying high in Beijing.

. . . . . .

My motherland, I am willing to do all the magical power.

In your 5,000-year space-time tunnel

Embrace every inch of your skin

Listen quietly to every piece of music you play

Seeing the humiliation and vicissitudes of the rivers and rivers

Look at the plateau mountains and stand your strong and glory

Disaster cannot destroy your new and eternal hope

Heavy pressure can't grind away the glory of your Nirvana rebirth

When the sound of history still echoes in the ears

The boiling blood is still stirring in the chest.

My motherland, you have the hopes and longings of your children.

Flying to the sun rising