Poetry 1: The Road to Hometown.
The day I left home. At night, the road in my hometown always closes my eyes, reaches into my thoughts and haunts my memory.
The road back to my hometown is full of my childhood. Sadness, sweet and sour, tears and smiling faces. At the moment, I think whether it is bitter or sweet, it is a melodious song in my memory. Touching the heart is like a clear spring.
The road in my hometown carries my yesterday. Yesterday, I was in rags, running with the wind, chasing smiling spring on a dirt road full of weeds.
Poetry 2: Homesickness in the rain.
Continuous drizzle, continuous drizzle, raindrops fall in a line in the sky, just like a wanderer cutting off his thoughts. The rain in my hometown must have washed out a clean village again.
The wheat waves rolled in the dreams of the villagers, and a corner of the green tree was smoking.
Imagine climbing the hill in my hometown, my father sitting at the door of the old house, wiping the fatigue on his forehead with the back of his hand, lighting a cigarette and squinting.
The rain on the eaves keeps falling, merging into a cheerful stream and flowing to the green fields.
Poetry 3: Sitting in front of my hometown.
Sitting at the door of my hometown, watching the rolling clouds in the air. Because there are more clouds, the blue sky is deeper. A donkey is chewing grass on an apricot tree with a thick bowl in front of the door. I don't know which donkey barked, and the donkey also raised its neck and barked.
A white rabbit as white as snow suddenly jumped past me, stopped and ran to the grass. Several chickens screamed and ran out of the grass. One of them swallowed a bug as soon as his neck stretched out.
A familiar voice made me look at the intersection. Thin mother is driving the pig home.