Grey tile
Fall into the autumn rain
The green moss forms a yearning.
Filter out the dust of the years
A drop of pure water
Run down from the eaves
Moisturize another bumper harvest
The wind crumpled enough paper.
The shadow of candlelight shattered.
The song of insects at night
Enlarge a graph.
You have a pen in your hand.
There is silver hair on his head.
Imagine the route after dawn.
The combination of chalk and blackboard
The combination of books and sounds.
Will always be the melody in the classroom
A thin body
Full of years of wind, frost and joy.
Just for the peaches and plums under the green forest tree.
Decorate the whole world
"Seven Laws * Thoughts on the 33rd Teacher's Day"
Text/Gan Linshu
Winter goes and summer comes, the temples wither, and the stars and the moon are accompanied by lights.
Who needs tears after painstaking efforts? Feelings will turn to dust.
The podium is three feet beautiful, and the chalk blooms one by one.
Look at the flowers in the garden, the flowers are pregnant, and the frosty peaches and snow are waiting for spring.
Father's stage
Text/Zhao Chunmiao
Father's stage is very small.
His youth, or his dreams.
Never walked out of the three-foot platform.
The most gorgeous turn
It's just for the immature eyes of students.
Sometimes a father is like a pointer.
Straight, unwilling to be wronged.
Pointing to the ups and downs of life
Pointing to ups and downs
Chalk silently consumes time.
The blackboard is full of ordinary days.
With a light brush, the dust will invade the wrinkles.
Repetition of writing and wiping
Father will get old.
Father is old.
Five children shared love and hope.
I feel guilty about my father.
My father tried to make me realize a wish.
I failed to bear rich fruits.
A poem that will only make trees thinner.
Singing proudly on the branches at night
My three-foot platform
-This poem is dedicated to the dedicated teachers.
Three-foot platform
It's the height I've climbed all my life.
Here, white clouds float leisurely.
Here, the river flows quietly.
There are many flowers and plants with and without names.
Of course, there are also
Do you want me to wade across the swamp with deep or shallow footprints?
Fight for a hand
I need a cry in the dark lit by lights.
Some windows of ignorance need to be opened with tireless calls.
Standing on this highland, I use a dead branch as a ruler.
Guide a pair of eyes to open wide.
Yearning and looking up
This is a blue sky with rain or sunshine.
Yi sheng kou Tian di
Standing here, I can
Listen to the sound of birds playing freely in the spring morning.
Listen to the tireless chirping of cicadas on poplar trees in summer.
Look at the autumn when Wanshan maple leaves are dyed red.
Look at the pictures of frozen winter in Wan Li. ...
Take the torch handed down.
Generation after generation has written immortal words with a piece of chalk.
I can smell every word.
The antique taste of China's ancestors
Are flowing in the blood of Chinese sons and daughters.
The wind wrinkled my face.
And my eyes.
Still shining in the best years.
Can be like the stars at dawn!