O, Middle Kingdom, the land that I love—You’re where I descended and where I grew up.

Your bountiful culture is what I hold dear,The crystallized wisdom of five thousand years. 

We rise up at daybreak, we rest after dusk, In spring bud the peaches, in fall come the mums.Our men work the fields, women weave at the loom, Kids play, knowing kindness makes all good things bloom. 

Our homes clean and airy, our dress plain and neat;Respect binds our couples, their children they guide. With chess, music, painting we fill our free time, Beneath gliding clouds, in pavilions lakeside. 

Our men of discernment are modest and just.They honor the ancients, heed heaven and fate, Keep households in order and countries at peace.In art and war gifted, they follow the Way. 

O, Middle Kingdom, my homeland divine—The stories of days past hold you in my mind. 

O, Middle Kingdom, to you we aspire—For many a wise man has your mien inspired. 

Time gallops forth like a nimble white steed,Stars rotate heavenward as hills and streams shift,The forests span, endless, across golden earth,While homes of our old friends still stand and persist. 

Our simple, pure manners are now but vague memory;Between fellow travelers, just a ghost of warmth left. Our people once sanctified the name of Maitreya, Now Dafa leads to heaven, yet our people don’t see. 

The towers of Xi’an, antique palace walls—But where is Tang Taizong, who once roamed these halls? The temples of Beijing, the shrines of great Daos—Of life, death, rebirth, who has figured it out? 

O, Middle Kingdom, or Central Plain vast—Myriads of travelers have your borders passed. 

O, Middle Kingdom, a wanderer’s home—The start of all journeys, the end of our roam.