The moon walks through the white lotus-like clouds.
The evening wind blew bursts of happy singing.
We sat by the high heaps of grain,
Listening to mum talk about the past.
We sat by the high heaps of grain,
Listening to mum talk about the past.
At that time, my mother had no land.
All life is in two hands.
Sweat flows in the fiery fields of the landlord,
Mother ate wild vegetables and bran.
Howling like a winter blizzard,
My mother was wearing tattered single clothes,
She went to sew a fox fur robe for the landlord,
Cold and hungry and falling on the snow…
After so many hard years,
Mum was looking forward to today’s good life.
The moon walks through the white lotus-like clouds,
The evening wind blew bursts of happy singing.
We sat by the high heaps of grain,
Listening to mum talk about the past.
We sat by the high heaps of grain,
Listening to mum talk about the past.
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