The quietness of human nature
The wind comes from the north, and the leaves are the verbs of sadness in winter
One on the left, one on the right, one in front and one in the back
How many lives are awakened by the spring breeze, how many souls are sent away by the cold wind
Fortunately, I can still feel the death zone on a fallen leaf
There are still people alive, and there is still some life.
Crawling low in the sun. On the greenway of the park
In the rain of falling leaves, an old lady cleaning
is so weak that she feels like she is floating at any time
The leaves she just swept behind fell to the ground
She swept forward again, step by step. Although
fallen leaves will still touch her footprints. Although it doesn't matter whether she sweeps or not
She is persistent and sweeps, stroke by stroke
Writing the most beautiful poem on this winter morning. You leave yours
I sweep mine, and I will use my responsibility to sweep out a path of human purity
Whether you see it or not, the world will be more beautiful through winter
A dream whiter than snow
Over the years, my soul has always roamed in a Tang poem
The warmth of the small red clay stove fermented the fragrance of ink< /p>
Let those amnesiac whispers speak of the drunken pain on the tip of the tongue
The vast days are floating on the snowflakes
When a little night is covered by hundreds of thousands of When surrounded by butterflies
Meng's eyes became turbulent. How many sobs
and struggles fictionalize another kind of vicissitudes in the second world
Clouds and cotton play the same role
A white lotus spits out its hands Buddha's light with folded hands. Muyu
The mutton-fat jade in the snow was uncovered one after another. When I wake up at dawn
In the dark night, the corners of Meng's clothes are still smelling of the fragrance of food
The light of the sword in front has lost its color...
Instructions from behind
The cold wind is getting colder and colder, and the sun is getting colder as it goes by
A diseased tree is dying
The yellow leaves are exhausted All the strength
Keep this skinny season
Winter is destined to be the festival of spring, snowflakes
collect corpses for the earth, and reeds collect corpses for rivers
Who is willing to give a shroud to a diseased tree
The leaves were swirling and left with tears in their eyes
Falling piece by piece
Farewell words are conveyed in the wind
Rest in peace, brothers who share the same branch...
I will set fire to it with my body you. After Nirvana
It’s spring again
Two bare trees in the winter field
The endless winter field is full of corpses and dead bones
< p>Only the tombstones are still alive for the people who have leftThe two bare trees may have hibernated, or they may have died
. But they are still standing, standing...
The winter wilderness is so vast, and they are so humble and helpless
The mountains and rivers are getting shorter and shorter, who else can
Stand up this sinking dusk. One more step into the sunset
It will be dark. Bird's nests hanging on two trees stirred up the darkness of the night. They know that the moon
will also climb the tree to rest for a while. Just like this, two trees
encourage each other in the wind. Even if they die, they still have to
make a home for the solemn years...
Editor's comment :
It is said that the most important thing in poetry is artistic conception. The language may not be beautiful, but it must make people's hearts move. The poet has achieved this. Several small poems also show the strength and fragility of life. The cleaning lady and the two bare trees may not have much time left for her (it), but they live strong, have passion when they live, and live in this world. Just full of life. Even in the cold winter, when the snowflakes turn into a shroud of withered grass and yellow leaves, the dream is still pure white. The heavy life interprets the vitality in the bones. People, nature, seasons, and everything constitute this world.
Thanks to the poet for the manuscript, I recommend reading it! (Editor: Deputy Editor)