“我是你河边上破旧的老水车,数百年来纺着疲惫的歌;我是你额上熏黑的矿灯,照你在历史的隧洞里蜗行摸索……”身在楚地,每当我登上天心阁那古老的城墙,抚摸岳阳楼那不朽的柱梁,总会有一丝酸涩涌上心头,总有一个声音在告诉我:“我们的名字叫炎黄。 ”I am your old watermill on the edge of the river, tired for hundreds of years the song spinning; I was your forehead blackened miner's lamp, according to your history in the tunnel clues to explore ... Chu, whenever I board the ancient walls of Tianxin Pavilion, touching the monumental beams of Yueyang House, there is always a hint of astringent in my heart. There is always a voice that tells me: “Our name is Yanhuang.”