In April, when the sun rises from the northeast, it is still green from the sea.
It's Tian Xin's turn that the wheat is ripe.
Bitter pills make people sleepless at night, and bamboo chickens call rain clouds like ink.
A big woman has a sickle in her waist and a basket in her hand.
Smooth the upper ridge first, and then tie the lower ridge.
Tian Jia takes pleasure in suffering and dares to burn his head!
The temples recommended by the nobles have been tasted new, and the wine cellar is elegant and close to the clubhouse;
At the end of the song, I was tired of treating child servants. Believe it or not, Tian Jia never entered the lips!
Lose public taxes and compete for citizens.
Wheat and autumn are in an emergency, growing crops, abundant young, and fierce years.
Tian Jia's efforts are helpless!
Beat this wheat word and make it a song of transplanting rice seedlings.
Wheat has pointed leaves; The branches and leaves are smooth and the crops are growing well.
Oh, that naughty boy, I don't want to be friendly with me.
If you want to harvest new wheat and follow Chen Gu, you must rely on your grandchildren to replace the old people.
After three nights, I lost my nursery. On a sunny day, I danced beside you.
Making pancakes in time can satisfy hunger, and Duobo Village has worked hard.
This is really a question of returning from a closed door. I am full of poetry and compassion.
In May, the wheat in the south of the Yangtze River is thin, and there is light rain in Huangmei season. Watch the swallow teach the chicken to fly.
The water is as dark as a picture, the peaks are innocent and the sun is shining. Who goes fishing in Los Angeles alone?
Nursery will be built in September and crops will be harvested in October. The millet is heavy, and the grass is shelled. Well, I am a farmer. Because I have the same crops, I went to work in the palace. The day is in the grass and the night is in the rope. I was so anxious to hitch a ride in the house that I began to broadcast Baigu.
Covered with green wheat, Jiangnan cloud and black leaves. There is no smoke scene in Lingao.
The foot of the rain is half closed and the eaves are broken. At the beginning of the snowy forest, the tiles were sparse. The returned ice particles are sticky.
The Tian family has less leisure in the month, and people are twice as busy in May.
In the evening, the south wind rises and the wheat turns yellow.
A woman's husband is hungry and her child is pregnant with pot pulp.
Go with Tian Xiang. Ding Zhuang is in Nangang.
Summer is steaming and rustic, and the back is burning.
I don't know about the heat, but I regret the long summer.
Another poor woman, holding her son,
Grab the ear with your right hand and hang the basket with your left arm.
Listening to his words of concern is very sad.
My family's taxes are gone, so I can take this to satisfy my hunger.
What are my advantages today? I have never been involved in farming and mulberry.
There are 300 stones in the land, and there is surplus grain in the year of Yan.
I am ashamed to read this in private, and I can't forget it every day.
wheat
One day after Tu Jieyin was released, he bought wine in the county seat to show Guo Gongfu.
On the Lingbi stage, green wheat is green, and calligraphy is left in front of the hall. At present, this is a bit of a headache.
Jiangshan is still cloudless and blue in Wan Li, the master of yesterday and the guest of today. Who points out that the host and guest are strong and sincere, and seeks the stone of Shantou bride.
Vole, vole, don't eat my millet! I have served you hard for years, but you don't care about me. Vowed to get rid of you and go to a happy land. That promised land, that promised land, is my good place!
Vole, vole, don't eat my wheat! I have served you hard for many years, but you are not kind to me. Swear to get rid of you and enjoy the state. That country, that country of music, is my good place!
Rat, vole, don't eat my seedlings! After years of hard work, you don't want me! I vowed to get rid of you and go to the suburbs to laugh. That happy suburb, that happy suburb, who is still lamenting the long cry!
Plum golden apricot fat, wheat white, cauliflower thin. No one has ever crossed the fence, but dragonflies and butterflies can fly
In May, Wujiang and Mai Han Xiu removed the seedlings and covered them with floc. The rice root house is like a block, and the water in the field is one foot wide this year.
Wheat and autumn fight for 100 yuan, which is called a small harvest year by the Tian family. There is no hunger in the bread stove, and it is cooked in the west wind.
Boiling soup and snow waves, the sound of cars and rain. Mulberry basins congratulate each other hand in hand, and there are not as many cotton cocoons as silk cocoons.
The little woman spent the whole night on the silk machine, and the big one wanted to fly because of the tax. Fortunately, sericulture is ripe this year, leaving yellow silk to weave summer clothes.
Xia Tian scooped water out of the river, and Gaoling turned over the river and ditch; Uneven terrain and exhausted manpower. Ding Nan is stepping on the front of the car.
During the day, weeding in the fields and rubbing hemp thread at home at night, the men and women in the village took on all the housework. Although the children don't plow and weave, they also learn a kind of melon in the shade of mulberry trees.
The leaves of Sophora japonica are evenly distributed at the beginning of the day, the air is cool, and the ears of green mice turn green in pairs. The three fairs have to see the three factories, and the idle customers are full of north windows.
Huang Chen was sweating like a pig and spent less time in Nong's house. Sitting on the rock in front of the door, the Liu Yin Pavilion is cool in the afternoon.
Thousands of acres of lotus drama, flower fans forget to go home late. The family knows where the boat is going, and sometimes the duckling can fly.
It is difficult to pick diamonds and waste plows, and blood refers to the bloody ghosts. I can't afford to grow water in the field, and the lake has recently collected rent.
As the sun sets, frogs croak and the night is long. If we don't treat the deaf-mute people relatively, will dreams and souls fight for the bed of quinoa?
Get on the light rail and go back to mourn. The whip drove the road far, not long enough to reach Cao. Guo Xu, doctor, trekking, stopping my journey, worries me.
I can't agree with me. I can't go back to my place. I'm harder to abandon than your heart. I can't cross the river and go back to my hometown without my consent. I prefer the present situation to your bad heart.
Climb up the mountain and collect Fritillaria to cure depression. Women's hearts are soft and nostalgic, and everyone has a reason to have a clue. And people all over the country are accusing me. They are very arrogant and stupid.
I walked slowly in the field, and the wheat was kept secret. Who can rely on to help report to big countries? Guo Xu, gentlemen, don't blame me. You think hundreds of times, I'll run by myself.
It's the end of the twelfth lunar month, and the climate is mild and comfortable. You can visit Lantian's former residence. You were reviewing a book, but you didn't dare to disturb it in a hurry. You went to the mountain, rested in Juesi, hosted dinner with the same temple, and left.
I walked north through the dark blue water, and the moonlight was clear, reflecting the city wall. In the night, on Hua's body, you can see the ripples at the water's edge, the water waves are up or down, and the moonlight is rippling with the waves in the water. In the distance, the cold mountain is shining, the fire is flickering, and the forest outside can be seen clearly. The dog barks in the alley, barking like a leopard. There was a flood of rice in the village, and the scattered bells staggered. At this time, I was sitting alone with the boy who came to sleep. How I miss you to help me recite poems and walk on the narrow road, with the clear water scenery close at hand.
It's mid-spring, the vegetation grows, the spring mountain can be expected, the water is light, the wings of Bai Ou are right, the dew is wet and green, and the wheat is in the morning, not far away. If you can swim past me? If the nature of your is not different, can I invite you to do your own thing? And this has a deep purport! No negligence. For the man who came out of the mountain carrying Phellodendron amurense, let him bring you this letter, without going into details.