Requesting essays about praising the motherland

What is it, like a sharp sword cutting through the iron curtain of time, releasing thousands of lights? What is it, like Juduo awakening the sleeping lion, roaring the strong voice of the times? What is it, like a monument, a melody of publicity and march, remembering the hardships of starting a business? This is my great motherland! friend! This is my 50th birthday motherland!

Fifty years is a moment in the long history. But what kind of turmoil and stormy waves have been in these fifty years? In these fifty years, we have cleansed away the muddy water; in these fifty years, we have determined to change the world and change the world. In the past fifty years, floating clouds have often obscured our eyes; in the past fifty years, the fate of the country has finally turned around. I would like to ask, eight thousand miles away from the clouds and the moon, my motherland, have you ever had frost-stained hair on your temples? I want to ask, you are still calmly flying through the chaotic clouds, what are the words in your heart? I meditated in the mist and rain of Nanhu Lake, I strolled in the afterglow of Xiangjiang River, I searched among the ruins of Taierzhuang, and I asked under the neon lights of Nanjing. I understand, the motherland, the millions of lions crossing the Yangtze River are exactly your gushing anger, and the mushroom cloud over the Jiuquan Satellite Base is exactly your proud figure. The music "The East Is Red" that resounds in the sky is the best interpretation of the national spirit. Isn't the bright red fingerprint of the farmer in Xiaogang Village a touch of the blood of Tan Zhuangfei on the streets of Yanshi? The pursuit of truth, the control of history, and the pursuit of ideals have been the main theme of every day and night for fifty years.

Friends, did you hear the applause for the restoration of the seat of the People's Republic of China in the United Nations General Assembly? Did you hear the heartbroken cries when seeing off the Prime Minister on the Ten Mile Long Street? Did you see the bright smiling faces when the big slogan "Hello, Xiaoping" was displayed? Have you seen the moving scenes of the people's soldiers fighting for life and death during the strict defense? You heard it, you saw it, this is the living motherland.

Whether it is the firewood smoke everywhere in the local steel-making, or the quarrels and quarrels in the fight for personal gains and criticism, when you look at it, you may lament the dislocation of history, but it can better reflect the difficulty of seeking.

Fifty years, in the blink of an eye. Fifty years, how impressive it is! respectable! Feelable! What a shame! Fifty years of hard work and dedication. For fifty years, you were the trumpet on the march by the Yalu River, you were the first heavy artillery shot to land on the Kinmen front, and you were the pickaxe that split the ice on the Qinghai-Tibet line. You are the sharp sickle cutting into the golden autumn, you are the signal for the launch of the launch vehicle, and you are also the safety helmet at a depth of 800 meters. This is our dear motherland! She is so sacred and inviolable, solemn and inviolable, and so concrete and clear.

Friends, please cherish every day! Your firm steps towards the workplace, your precise comments on the documents, every word you say on the podium, your computer drawings, your greenhouse vegetable garden, the silver beads of sweat on your forehead, your vigorous brush strokes. They are all portraits of our beloved motherland, my friend.

Friends, please cherish every dawn and don’t waste every gray hair in vain. Come on, friends, let us shed the blood of our youth and build the national edifice of the new century!