Poetry about Tibet

1, encounter Tibet Author: Yang Yongquan every encounter is full of surprises, the magic is that you will always be beautiful. Every silver flower is surrounded by white clouds and blue sky under the sentimental moon, woven into colorful and long barley grains, turned into mellow wine, nurtured good children in the snowy area and created many revolutionary martyrs. Tibet is closest to the sky, so it has the reputation of heaven. Seeing Gao Yuanhong's smile is better than Mei Duo approaching the roof of the world. Don't forget your initiative and enterprising heart, countless comrades-in-arms, who have been selfless and persistent. How many outposts are close to each other in the depths of the Snow Mountain Canyon, and there are heroic sons and daughters behind to write brilliant hymns for you to turn the tide? How many sonorous steps are there on the magical road? How many heroes are brave, loyal and fearless, and build an iron wall? A pair of strong chest halls are piled up in the dew, and it is a kind of happiness to dare to bear every encounter. Every parting is really inseparable, and every encounter is always full of wonderful things. I remember returning to the plateau that year, forgetting my chest tightness and shortness of breath, and walking on the long embankment of Lhasa River. Thinking of the comrades who once guarded the border, sweet military songs suddenly sounded in Tibet. Once met, there is always a different kind of joy. I loved your warm embrace and harmonious beauty. 2. One's Tibet Author: Tao Min's prayer flags dance in front of me, comfortable and quiet, but I am not addicted to longing for a person's pilgrimage. The lake looks up at the snow-capped mountains, and the melodious buttered tea and highland barley are intoxicated in the blue tile red wall of Wuming Buddhist College. Devoted people crawl on the pilgrimage road, and eagles hover over the deep mountains. The girls in Zhuomali are singing loudly, singing in Cangyang Jiacuo, writing euphemistic poems, thinking hard, riding a horse through hardships, praying, chanting, meditating and forgetting before the Buddha, but I don't want to say it, but I hate it for a long time. Potala Author: The stone at the top of Red Hill in Sidney Ma is abandoned by the sea. Wet eyes are especially bright in the dark. Who will measure the height of this stone? Who will throw the sheep of the East to pieces? Who throws eggs in the west? The foot of the wall is intact. The dawn in the stone polished the piano music on both sides of Horseshoe River, and relatives found their own way. Stone flows like a tide, and the stone is full. People wake up from the moon, and the night is warm. The bone that warms the stone warms the hand and warms the house where people and gods are in love. The prince at dawn threw away the lonely skylight. Only flames and women pointing out of the mountain. There are only battle songs in all directions. There is nowhere to escape in the drums of the black flag bearer. My hometown is backed by stones, which brings time back to life. The village at the foot of the mountain woke up from the bumper harvest. The longing for the stone with big breasts and long sleeves will make you red and white with the rain. The cassock blown by the conch looks at the sky. There are only people in the sky. Only the wizard's poems flew over the stone, and every river was wet. The family banquet of the old god in the stone was filled with relatives from all directions. The breath of God in the center of stones and willows moistens the wings of the land. When the sky lantern song presented by the stone in the cloud attracted snowflakes, the mother in Xueyu was so busy that she looked around, drums sounded everywhere inside and outside the house, and the piano sounded everywhere in the highland barley field. I don't know how many centuries I have been wandering. Stone on stone, the neighbor of the sun is holding a star from his hometown through the temple. How long did the human sisters wake up from tears and wait for happiness? The mountain surrounded the stone three times, and the stone surrounded the people three times. The music in the twilight circled the sky three times. The pious man found his door in the stone. Sunrise and sunset store morality for mankind. 4. Tibet, Tibet Author: Zheng Chaoyang Yak, he walks slower than time, like a slow-moving old man; It's like walking in front of Tibetans in a snowy area that is hard to describe. Every time they set out, it was a pilgrimage. The mountains meander like Hada's epic held up by the plateau in the eagle's sight, and the rivers shed tears of glaciers, that is, as we find the pain of Mount Everest in poetry, it is no wonder that many lakes are "wrong" in the formation of Namco, Mabian Yongcuo and Yangzhuoyong, and they are wrong again and again in the love of the living Buddha. Those peaks reflected in the water, with the names of lovers in Cangyang Jiacuo, have antelopes and wild donkeys, revealing the news that there is grass by the lake or in the valley. Every tree on the hillside is taller than me, and the blooming Ge Sang is another form of plateau singing. The flowers below are admirable, at least in my imagination, I have to work more than 4000 meters. 5. Tibet Author: Hou Ying riding a fast horse, along the direction of a cloud. I have to take the Yangtze River, the Yellow River in the south of the Yangtze River, the desert in the west and the highland barley wine in the west. I just want to go to a place called Donglang, hug every soldier there and bring the wind of Xilin Gol League to the battlefield in autumn. The three armies are magnificent.