In the rustling sound, it's moss talking to you.
Vujacic, vujacic.
You know,
As the rain approaches, people will be quiet.
You know that.
Rustling, the wind blew away the charm of flowers,
In the rustling sound, it is the lining leaves that cry for you.
Vujacic, vujacic.
You know,
When the rain comes, people will leave.
You know that.
Rustling, the wind blew out the burning wax,
In the rustling sound, it is the spark that sleeps with you.
Vujacic, vujacic.
You know,
The rain is leaving, and people are scattered.
You know that.
Rustling, the wind blew away the cleanliness of the moon,
In the rustling sound, it is the passengers who sigh to you.
Vujacic, vujacic.
You know,
It stopped raining and people were not there.
You know that.
There is a rustle and the wind is silent.
In the rustle, everyone who listened to the wind was silent.
Vujacic, vujacic.
You know,
Rain turns to dust, and people leave dust.
Do you know that?/You know what?
You don't know.
Listen to the wind, modern poetry 2, the arrival of June
Bring us bursts of happy wind
In June, childlike innocence spreads its wings and flies.
Thousands of elves follow the happy wind.
Sow the seeds of dreams under the blue sky
The wind asked me quietly
are you happy
I am a happy elf in June.
June is the rainy season.
A heavy rain surprised the sultry people.
This also cooled my dry mood.
Rain has purified everyone's mind.
Bring us a simple purity.
I looked up again and again to see the cloud floating in the blue towards the wind.
Xia Feng has endless memories.
I can't stop thinking.
June is the season when lotus flowers bloom.
Raindrops hit the lotus leaves to buy lottery tickets.
Lotus leaves dance and sway with it.
Small fish in the pond
Stick out your head and breathe fresh air.
Swing your tail at me.
Invite me to swim with you.
I smiled and blinked at the fish.
Blue sky in June
The sun is shining brightly.
Gently roll up the flying dust.
Take me to July.
I walked through an empty field.
The soil allows all organic green plants to grow.
The wind seemed to hear the sound of broken rice.
That sweet smell accompanied my vows.
Listening to the wind, modern poem 3 seems to be on the Serengeti grassland.
Countless wildebeests are galloping,
Sound from far to near
Just like the tide in Qiantang River.
Surging,
The avalanche is spectacular!
In the noise of swallowing mountains and rivers,
The earth is like a boat in a stormy sea.
In the peak valley, helpless loneliness is swaying;
In this majestic momentum,
The rebellious heart of the mountains and rivers is also echoing.
Thunder that shook his soul!
Listen, listen!
This is the smell of the south wind!
There is warmth in damp,
In the coolness, there is a cold breath!
This is a pregnant woman about to give birth.
On the graveyard of the season of death,
Lay a hotbed for newborn babies.
That hotbed will be covered with the tenderness of spring.
Hui feng and Chang; It will curl up in bed.
There are white clouds on the wet umbrella.
Hold up a blue sky and let you wander;
The new grass buds are soft blue.
Decorate hotbeds, just keep your eyes open.
Mao Mao's dog is rocking by the bed.
Listen, listen! This shortness of breath
It hurts like a cramp in labor.
In peace and climax,
We put a child who is about to be born
A brand-new life is longing for it!