The yellow earth is not only yellow soil, yellow sand, yellow water; the yellow earth not only has yellow skin, yellow fields, yellow rhythms; the yellow earth also has you - old cattle, without you, not yellow land, without you, without you, without you, without the strong color of yellow earth.
From spring to love, from autumn to winter, you are like a golden thread, stringing together everything on the yellow land.
In the morning, under the golden sun you silently cultivate;
In the evening, in the dusky rainbow, you forget yourself.
Do not know speculation, do not know how to take advantage, as always, in the accompaniment of yellow skin and yellow trumpets, along with the yellow mud, spinning yellow melody.
In the mountains, you pull the pear rake and turn out the fragrance of the earth.
Under the Pingchuan River, you chase the yellow wind and pull back the mellow fragrance of golden autumn.
Day after day, year after year, all that is begged for is a few bales of yellow hay, but what is offered to man is the fruit of yellow, orange and orange in the autumn mountains.
From young to old, living in the world of yellow.
The scalper knows that the dusk is late, and does not wait for the whip to raise its hooves, which is the high respect of the yellow skin to you.
You are obscure, born with yellow skin, accompanied by yellow skin long.
Open your yellow eyes, swing your long-worn yellow tail, no complaints, carrying a yellow nation, yellow seeds rushing step by step to a higher peak.
The eagle eclipses you in your glow. You take a sip of the yellow spring, stand up the yellow backbone, and step on the majestic war drum covered with cowhide.
Go ahead, the yellow-skinned elite who bleeds year after year like me.
Come on, yellow-skinned gods like me who sweat every day.
(Source network intrusion and deletion)