In the fields of my hometown, the wind blows, and the green wheat seedlings
are brewing towards glory, my father’s whetstone
Gearing up to see how to use the sickle Extremely sharp
And the cuckoo is on the road, composing the lyrics of a good harvest
However, the friction between the sickle and the whetstone
Should be after the full harvest, those things that resemble the spring rain
The tears have diluted the salt
It will be covered with the face, waiting for the bitter salt to be buried in the soil
Take root, and there will be another good harvest next year
p>
I must let a pomegranate conceive and a lotus write
Summer thoughts, a dragonfly
Stand on the wheat awns and share the wheat seedlings
The joy of pregnancy, and then let a ladybug
Put on the mother's flower headscarf to heal the wheat's lovesickness
This should be my gift to my hometown
Excuse me, can you hang this sickle high?
Along with the whetstone, your look
has already hinted that you are ignorant and backward
p>Prepare for the funeral, so that the weeds on the ground do not cry
In fact, I was an abandoned child in your previous life
Adopted by a river, I am the tears of your return
Sliding from your cheek and being dragged by a green leaf
I am no longer wandering, now, I am
The geese you let fly are the geese you let go fish
I give my other thoughts to the wings of birds
I don’t want to sink, I think, after I complete a difficult trip
, landing, but when I accepted the lotus baptism, behind the sun
there was a storm that wanted to wet my returning wings
Then Let me ride on the thoughts of dandelion
and come back together, but this is indeed what will happen soon
When the time comes, I will be there
On the river bank, I saw the waves of wheat blown by the wind
And a shadow that had been watching for a long time
That was the mother’s soul, waiting to be supported
The soul of a returning wanderer wings