Author: White Wolf Xiao Yue
spring breeze
spring breeze
mild
Blow over the mountains and rivers
The sleeping vegetation is full of vitality.
The green leaves fluttered in the wind.
spring breeze
slow
Sweep the earth
Early risers plow cattle and plow fields.
Busy is the sickle of autumn.
spring breeze
soft
Float across the river
Lead the underwater fish to dance happily.
Wild ducks and waterfowl play with each other.
spring breeze
Slowly
The Buddha scratched my face.
Like a mother's generous and warm palm.
Heal the wounds of my years
spring breeze
huanhuan
Flowing through my heart
Like good news from a distant child.
Excitement kept me awake all night.
spring breeze
warm
Fly to the horizon
Smiling white clouds are accompanied by enthusiasm
With my eternal hope and expectation.
spring
Who is it, opening the new first page of the calendar, the swallow flying in the rain? Is the cuckoo spreading its wings in the clouds? Or, firecrackers in the farewell sound? Who sowed the first seed of hope on the dry Yuan Ye and the hard-working bull on the yellow land? Is it father's weathered white hair on his forehead? In other words, the wrinkles on the mother's face were refuted by the rings. I only saw a wisp of drizzle and wind flying by, and in this way, your pretty cheeks were blown pink by apricot flowers and red by peach blossoms. In this way, you awakened the dream of sleeping for thousands of years and began to set foot on a new footprint.
summer
Before I could put on a dress for you, the sun scorched your heart, bearing the entrustment of spring, and you carefully guarded your first promise. In the afternoon, the dark clouds swam across the clear sky, and then shed a touching tear, washing away the tired dust on the farmers' shoulders. At this time, the newly withered shoots of the branches have given birth to new life. In the chirp of crickets, the figure was slowly elongated, elongated ... People in the crops waved sickles and hoes gnawed by years, and wrote some distant hopes with the poet's pen.
autumn
Sending away the last ray of hot sunshine in summer, you hold the hand of the seed and help you through the two seasons all the way. Just for the golden fruits hanging on the branches everywhere and the simple smiling faces of farmers in the fields. I can clearly see that their eyes are full of tears of joy. Finally, the ears of wheat in the rice field quietly climbed to the top of the former seedlings, bending the leaves; Also bend the reaper's back pressure and bend the shoulder pole. You comforted the sweat of farmers who have traveled for a long time with a bumper harvest. Swallows flying in the south, whose leaves have fallen back to their roots, were sent away from the treetops by you, spitting out a trace of white fog affectionately, covering up the footprints at home, leaving only blue sky and long memories.
winter
Who ended the 360 days of last season, the snow falling on the top of the mountain? Is it a cold current blowing on the roof? Or, the thick cotton-padded jacket on the villagers. Who is it, quietly sweeping away the colorful prosperity of the past, or a bug sleeping secretly in the ground? Is it the lazy dying sun? Or, a light tree that has been busy all his life? I can no longer see the apricot flowers dancing in the setting sun, and I can't hear the drizzle that moistens the girl's heart in the small building. Looking back suddenly, you have fulfilled your last promise, grabbed an endless handful of white snow, sprinkled it all over the earth, and continued to lead the songs that are not old.
In the biting cold wind, wait, wait …
Waiting for the next spring.