The red clouds fly and the setting sun is round,
The grassland has raised the smoke of the hometown;
The wind is light, the smoke is crooked,
That's mama calling.
Walking thousands of miles to the horizon,
The cooking smoke of hometown is floating on the blue sky;
The wind pursues, the clouds are far away,
Please take my thoughts with you.
Well
The smoke from the kitchen is in my heart,
Well
My mother's call is in my ear.
Well
Smoke leads my dream,
Well
Fly up to the sky and back to the grassland.
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