Many, many decades ago, there was a Chinese opium-eater,
so addicted, so lazy he was a day-dreamer.
He didn't care about having no rice in the cooking pot.
He didn't concern about whether his children hungry or not.
When he smoked opium, his mind drifted to heaven,
where beautiful angels danced and sang.
When the smoke vanished into the thin air,
he found himself getting nowhere.
When the effect of opium wore off,
he found himself at a loss.
Opium caused his mind euphoric,
and his body illed with great risk.
Recently China blasted off a rocket into the air space,
making every Chinese amaze.
The astronaut got out of module and waved the flag,
making every Chinese happy and clap.
That was the moment of truth and national pride,
a handsome result of hard work day and night.
From opium-eater to space-walker,
the Chinese people has changed, it is no wonder.
The next target is the moon,
which will be reached very soon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem