Show off yourself with your tall branches; If I love you-I will never repeat monotonous songs for the shade like an spoony bird; It not only brings cool comfort all year round like a fountain; Not only does it increase height and set off dignity like a dangerous peak. Even during the day. Even spring rain. No, these are not enough! I must be a kapok beside you, standing with you as a tree. Roots, clinging to underground leaves, touch each other in the clouds. Every time a gust of wind passes, we greet each other, but no one can understand us. You have your copper branches and iron stems, like knives, swords and halberds; I have my red flowers, like a heavy sigh and a heroic torch. We share cold waves, storms and lightning; We like mist, flowing mist and rainbow. Seemingly separated forever, but dependent for life. This is great love, this is loyalty: love-not only your stalwart body, but also the position you insist on, the land under your feet.
Beautiful mood
Author: Xi Murong
If life is a
A speeding train
Happiness and sadness are
Those two tracks
Stay close behind me
All the moments are hasty and vague.
Unless you can stop and look back.
Only in the moment of looking back.
In order to get a clear and clear
Sour and pungent, so only
When it's too late
In order to find a way
A good mood without regrets
Rain Alley
Dai wangshu
Holding an oil-paper umbrella,
Wandering alone for a long time,
Long and lonely rain lane,
I hope to meet a girl as sad as lilac.
She has the color of lilacs,
Lilac-like fragrance,
Sad as cloves,
Mourning in the rain,
Sadness and hesitation;
She wandered in the lonely rain lane,
Holding an oil-paper umbrella, like me,
Silently, like me,
Cold, sadness and melancholy.
She approached quietly,
Approaching,
Cast a sighing look,
She drifted like a dream,
As sad and confused as a dream.
Like lilacs floating in a dream,
I passed this girl by;
She walked away silently,
Far away,
A crumbling fence,
Walk through this rainy path.
In the lamentation of the rain,
Remove her color,
Spread her fragrance,
Dissipated,
Even her sighing eyes
Lilac is melancholy.
Holding an oil-paper umbrella,
Wandering alone for a long time,
Long and lonely rain lane,
I hope to float past a girl as sad as a lilac.
Shu Ting's Motherland, My Dear Motherland.
Motherland, my motherland
I am your red clay in the south of the Yangtze River, and I have gained meager hope with my poor life.
I am your yellow sand in Mobei, venting my green fantasy with overwhelming passion.
I am your tracker, trudging on the Yellow River with the reins.
I am the willow tree that you hang down on the bank of the Yangtze River, stirring the spring tide with your fingers.
I am a long scroll of your history, a forgotten story.
I am the alienated chapter of your real music.
I am your tears falling gently in the rainy season.
It's your wings baking in the hot sun.
This is the high head of Mount Everest.
That is the brilliance of Snow Lotus.
I am your dim street lamp, standing far away in a colorful paradise.
I am your ancient lighthouse, feeling the desolation after Qian Fan alone.
I am your premature baby, and my thin body sucks your shriveled breasts.
I am your forgotten memory.
For out-of-school children, this is a shadow on the mind.
It's a wandering child wandering in a foreign land
I am your ear of wheat, turning your hard work into gold.
I am your nameless weed, let the green melody play in the gray sky.
I am your strong life on the rock.
I am a seed sprouting in your frozen soil.
I grew up wearing clothes spun by your worn-out spinning wheel.
I grew up wearing your patchwork.
I grew up in the warm and dark days of your kerosene lamp.
I grew up in a field where an ox worked hard.
Motherland! My motherland! I am a citizen of your lower class, but I sing a heartfelt blessing song with noble heart, deep respect and no regrets!
Motherland! My dear motherland!