Upon seeing my virgin grassland
My heart promptly cried in joy,
Like a thirsty wanderer in the desert,
Upon seeing a running stream.
Through thick and thin,
She kept on flowing
But who knows the secret of, and
Grief of the Yellow River?
Under the sky of black clouds,
Tough and sting are my fellows
Not watered and blessed with education
But pretend to be the best yet.
Intensely it pains my heart,
And squeezed my soul into tears
But, however, i will leave no stone unturned
To heal my sick home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem