Like a dim dream recalled, I curse the long-fled past
My native soil two and thirty years gone by.
The red flag roused the serf, halberd in hand,
While the despot's black talons held his whip aloft.
Bitter sacrifice strengthens bold resolve
Which dares to make sun and moon shine in new skies.
Happy, I see wave upon wave of paddy and beans,
And all around heroes home-bound in the evening mist.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Obvious tribute to worker as pervasive image in Mao's work, new sky inserts future promise.