I love this land, Ai Qing.
If I were a bird,
I should also sing with a hoarse throat:
This land hit by the storm,
This river of sadness and anger will surge forever,
This endless wind,
And the gentle dawn from the forest ...
And then I died,
Even feathers rot in the ground.
Why do I often cry?
Because I love this land deeply. ...
Wen Yiduo's "A Word"
There is a saying that it is a curse.
There is a saying that you can light a fire.
Although no one has said it for 5 thousand years,
Can you guess the silence of the volcano?
Maybe he was suddenly possessed,
Suddenly, there was a thunderbolt in the blue sky.
Explosion:
"Our China!"
What should I say today?
You don't believe that Cycas blooms,
So there is a sentence you listen to:
When the volcano couldn't help being silent,
Don't tremble, stick out your tongue and stamp your feet.
Wait until the blue sky thunders.
Explosion:
"Our China!"
Guo Moruo's Coal in the Furnace
-attachment to the motherland
Ah, my lady!
I will live up to your hospitality.
Don't let me down.
I'm doing this for the people I love.
Burn like this!
Ah, my lady!
You should know my predecessor.
Don't you think I am a reckless slave?
Want me to lie in the arms of this black slave
As long as there is a heart like fire.
Ah, my lady!
I think my predecessor
Originally a useful pillar,
I have been buried alive for years.
Only now have I seen the light of day again.
Ah, my lady!
Ever since I saw the light again
I often miss my hometown.
I'm doing this for the people I love.
Burn like this!
Sing for the motherland
autumn wind
Give off a faint fragrance.
Chrysanthemum in frost
Give a piece of wheat straw a season
Kiss the afterglow of the sunset
Love overflows gentle eyes.
Look at the fields calmly.
Passion flies to poetry
Listen to the gurgling of the Yellow River.
A history bearing countless sufferings
Watch the river with high sediment concentration.
How many memories have you accumulated?
In a state of ruin
This is your old face
The hardships of childhood
Left an indelible mark.
Experienced hardships and hardships
Half a century of fighting
A far-reaching and long flow
Footprints of 5,000-year civilization
A long historical process
The heroic waves rolling in the past
The strings of time
Play today's brilliant melody
Shu Ting's motherland, my dear motherland.
I am your shabby old waterwheel by the river.
Tired songs that have been spun for hundreds of years;
I am a miner's lamp blackened on your forehead,
Do what you do in the tunnel of history;
I am a withered ear of rice; It is a roadbed that has been in disrepair for a long time;
This is a barge on the beach.
Draw the rope deep
Pull into your shoulder;
-the motherland!
I'm poor,
I am sad.
I am your ancestor.
Painful hope,
It's a flying sleeve.
Flowers that never fall to the ground for thousands of years;
-the motherland!
I am your brand-new ideal,
Just broke free from the spider web of myth;
I am the germ of your ancient lotus under the snow;
I am your laughing vortex with tears hanging;
I am the newly painted white starting line;
This is crimson dawn.
It is sprayed;
-the motherland!
I am one billionth of you.
Is the sum of your 9.6 million square meters;
With your scarred breasts,
raise
Lost me, considerate me, boiling me;
And then from my flesh and blood
get
Yours; Abundance, your glory, your freedom;
-the motherland,
My dear motherland!
homesickness
Yu Guangzhong
When I was a child,
Homesickness is a small stamp,
I'm here and my mother is there.
When I grow up,
Homesickness is a narrow ticket,
I'm here and the bride is there.
Later,
Homesickness is a short grave,
I'm outside and my mother is inside.
now
Homesickness is a shallow strait,
I am here and the mainland is there.
Wang Shu's "I Use Broken Palm"
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 bank is full of flowers.
There is a strange smell when the tender willow branches are broken. )
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!