我把自己和一株百岁的白杨树相比。我的根一是亲爱的人民;我的树枝——是歌;我的树叶——就是年青的好儿女们。我是在饥饿的草原上长大的。砂地里没有一点水分。可汗们、牧主们和阿句们斫断了我的根。乌云把太阳从我遮蔽开。厉害的暴风雪把我年青的树叶吹刮得精光。我把树梢伸向太阳.但是没有找到太阳。我把 I compared myself with a hundred-year-old poplar. One of my roots is the dear people; my branches are songs; my leaves are the young and good children. I grew up on the hungry prairie. There is no water in the sand. The Khan, the priests, and the Aphrodite cut off my roots. The dark clouds shield the sun from me. The severe storm snowed my young leaves. I extended the treetops to the sun. But I didn’t find the sun. I put