Parked in a remote place,
It doesn't have the towering peak of Mount Tai.
But there are rolling hills,
It has no asphalt road,
But there is a hovering muddy smell,
It hasn't lost its goodness,
All simple farmers and solid crops,
My dream land!
My soul wanders with you,
My body grows with you.
And you, the girl I will never forget,
Your pigtails,
I dare not forget, dare not yearn for,
I can only dream in a shabby thatched cottage.
My hometown!
You're dead, like me,
Destroy your own dreams,
Can't see the beautiful flowers,
Blooming in the mountains,
Can't hear the sparrow's cry,
Screaming,
All my strength,
I can't wake you up,
The last sentence,
I love your hometown and I want to sleep, too.
Modern Poetry about Hometown 2 * At this time, I am thinking about my hometown *
This fall
I'm like a crutch without inspiration.
Dry slowly from top to bottom
Higher and higher days
Opened the distance between me and my parents.
Away from home.
I am a moss with no background.
If my life must be full of twists and turns
My tortuous past life.
It's best not to talk about it
Just looking at the Yellow River.
This road is very tortuous.
Just live this life
Repeatedly
You can't sing alone in the desert.
Can't play frontier fortress ancient songs
What happened to that song?
I left my hometown with my dream.
I've lost my dreams all these years.
Only this heart is still in my arms.
now
Thinking about my hometown
* Back to my hometown *
The bird seems a little anxious.
They have children far away from home.
Fendou Yicha Fan Yi
Now I have to take my daughter and drag my children home.
How much like me.
Go back to your hometown thousands of miles away with a few mouths on your back.
My old father is drying millet in the low room.
Black and thin, just like your own shadow.
Autumn blooms on mother's plate.
Just mom.
The originally strong arm became a wilted radish.
Guide my children to ask questions.
The old street lamp in front of the old house is still on.
Old New Year pictures still left on the wall
It seems that I still have the shadow of my childhood.
After all these years, this house
I have too many people.
In the infinite amplification of parents' tolerance
I only regard it as my hometown.
An old spider is crawling in the corner.
Busy spinning all day.
Just keep those stocks
Weave into a big net
Much like the home woven by parents.
I used to waste time there.
The most touching thing is over.
A familiar smell is in front of you.
This is mom's vegetable garden.
The sun is just right at this time.
Moderate heat and cold
Parents are around.
Let's eat.
Chew the taste of hometown carefully.
* When we meet again *
When we meet again
The sky in my hometown is very high.
The cloud stopped gently in the center of South Lake.
How much like me.
Excited by water and trees.
The most important thing is that they
You can still call my name accurately after many years.
Tell the former girl.
Those things about my poor writing and dancing.
Occasionally mention the old house.
Seminar on my works
These people who taught me to be a poet.
Doing nothing in early autumn
After greeting each other, Kan Kan spoke.
I didn't just call out their names.
The words left in the book many years ago
Although elegant in front of them.
The sun climbs from shoulder to back.
Walk out of the room slowly from your feet.
They talked to me for a long time.
Love at that time, laughter at that time.
It hasn't changed in so many years.
Teacher Chen is sitting with my father.
Much like the moon standing in front of the door.
Warm everyone carefully.
It's getting dark
Time is so unhurried
just in time
This is the time to place the future.
The workers are uniform.
It is better to leave the ideal position to bless.
They are all well after many years.
Modern poetry about hometown is coming in three years.
Parents' heart sounds penetrated the wind and fog.
I know you may not come back.
Countless times, I can look at the solitary tree full of village heads.
Every day from the whistle of hope to the disappearance of the rear of the car
Rotating eyes are full of too many words.
Listen to the vicissitudes of life.
//
Children are spring flowers in the eyes of parents.
The cold wind can't blow through love.
Thinking is selfless and noble.
The lullaby was written by mother herself.
Who is at the bottom line of the spring dream, watching the young trees grow sturdily?
It is my parents who are sleeping soundly.
//
What's there?
It's hard for us to give up all our lives.
There is a rainbow on the horizon.
Or beautiful flowers
No, it was the wanderer's footsteps that stayed at the street corner of childhood.
This is the kite string tied to the kite.
Hometown eaves, campus fields
//
Looking at the moonlight in my hometown
Through this eyeful of light
Let peace of mind spread to the spoony night sky.
My thoughts go with the wind to touch my hometown.
Then, I wrote a song in the cloud.
Comfortable waiting for your chord.
Fly with dreams
Fly to the place where I want to remember.