one
When the gentle wind warms the cold face;
When the rain wets the dry and cold hair tips;
When the sky is covered with a gray veil;
When the field is painted green by the magic pen;
When swallows whisper in your ear;
In those days, the minds of young people were full of poems. ...
Ah-
Spring! Passionate spring!
I'm sure-
Left you in this thriving new century.
two
Silently,
Spring is coming ...
That wind,
Soft,
Warm and cold face;
Rain,
Bright sky,
Moisturize dry and cold hair tips;
Listen-
Fields, mountains and rivers,
Take off your rotten clothes in winter,
Put on a bright yellow new dress,
Welcome the spring smile happily;
Affectionate sky,
Covered with a gray veil,
Shyly express attachment to spring. ...
And, and,
Birds are playing in the warm river,
Whispering swallows fly obliquely,
Each of them recited a hymn. ...
Ah-
This passionate spring!
This charming spring!
With the brush in your hand,
Dipped in this thick spring scenery,
With this surging spring tide,
A magnificent picture depicting the New Year in China.
three
There is also a cable under the bridge.
A river. How many poplars were alive from the beginning?
The river runs through the whole mountain city with wind.
It also passes through here. I parked my car on the railing.
Looking at the thin river, let the wind pass by me.
Comb the whole body and gently pass through all of me.
Indulge in the long world. The clock and bowl where I eat.
Here we are; Pull up my feet and start walking.
Wind, tear a piece and put it in my breath.
Leave traces for poplars. I took my foot off,
Put your heart here.
four
I used my injured palm.
Explore this vast land:
This corner has been reduced to ashes,
That corner is just blood and mud;
This lake should be my hometown,
In spring, the embankment is full of flowers.
The tender willow branches are broken and have a strange smell.
I touched the coolness of seaweed and water;
The snow peaks in Changbai Mountain are freezing cold.
The water and sediment of the Yellow River slip through the fingers;
The rice fields in Jiangnan are so soft ... now there is only Artemisia scoparia;
Litchi flowers in Lingnan are lonely and withered,
There, I was immersed in the bitter water of the South China Sea without fishing boats. ...
Invisible palms swept the mountains without complaint,
Fingers stained with blood and ash, palms stained with darkness,
Only the far corner is still intact,
Warm, clear, firm and vigorous spring.
On it, I stroked it with my broken palm,
Like a lover's soft hair, a baby's milk.
I put all my strength in my palm.
Put it on, send love and all hope,
Because there is only the sun, no spring,
Will dispel the haze and bring Su Sheng,
Because it's the only place where we don't live like animals,
Die like an ant ... there, eternal China!