Dwarf’s poems include: When he was born, the furniture was tall, big and solemn. Now he is very short and shabby. There are no doors or windows. They insist on being there in person. If their hearts are like a broken ship that is tilting and sinking, those biting the flesh will flee one after another. Is the rat that goes ashore a screaming poem? Nouns and adjectives have endangered traffic. They have voluntarily chosen non-heroic exile. Your hat is forgotten on the flagship. Chapter 3. Who holds up the neon wine of the city to try to compete with the red and swollen sunset of the end of the century? The clinking of glasses caused an epoch-making power outage. The farmer calmly approached the sunset and used outdated metaphors to light his pipe. He squatted in the field and thought about something. He was always interrupted by the sound of frogs. Who is deeper than the darkness? The twenty-story building is built on the back of a floating whale. The rapeseed flowers don’t know the danger of the pile driver. They are blindly naive and romantic. The beekeeper is hunched over his back. The city ruthlessly pushes out the last piece of nectar. The air conditioner operates in a balanced manner. The body temperature and the machine depend on each other. What makes me feel hot is the memory of that day. A sunflower fan or a mint leaf is attached to the poem's forehead. The fields are flooded and dry at the same time. They are driven to the execution ground by chemical fertilizers and pesticides. They don't forget to shout harvest slogans. With the extra money, they build a house in the mountain col. A rose house in front of the door with Uwa white walls and Italian toilets. Later, I hired a bastard to take care of the fat goose and build a security shelter for the Crown car. I spent the rest of my time doing art and talking on my mobile phone. I stretched out my blood vessels in the city and left behind a fence in the countryside. Dogs and old people were left behind. The painter straightening the smoke from the tiled roof of his hometown is getting longer and longer, his beard is getting longer and more lonely, his clothes are in tatters, half of his body is stuck in the picture frame, he is smoking the master's Marlboro, tearing up a piece of the drawing and wiping it on the table, kneading it into a ball to relieve himself, frying goose eggs and drinking alcohol in the city and Lovers are exchanged by contract in the countryside. The gaze is like a carefully folded yellow handkerchief, waved to whom to see. Chapter 4: Watching in the wind for too long, the tears have dried up. I took off my sore eyes and stood on tiptoes of an orphan on a completely blind record. The first longing for the north. No matter how far a kapok tree spins, it cannot make its red lips touch the shoulders of an oak tree. This is the last feather of a dream. You can hold it and fly for a moment, but you cannot make a house for life. However, the spirit of the solitary smoke in the desert will always call to the south. The short bamboo needles rolled northward. They drifted along the Yellow River. The Yuanmingyuan was hung with frost. Erguotou was covered with smoke. They rode along the windy Chang'an Street with their lapels open. They learned many tongue-twisting sounds. They spit silk everywhere and still returned to the south to form cocoons. My southern comparison Hunan, Fujian, is slightly larger and less humid than the rain forest behind the house. Every year, the monsoon knocks over a few hot bird's nests and splashes them. The ever-changing dialects, the desire for hard soil, cannot change the way southerners think with their aerial roots. The north wind trees no longer exist in the south. The fallen leaves are evergreen, they hate that the juice is too full, they miss the wind and snow filled with strong wine and the waist of the shrug coat. The potatoes are hidden in the sentimentality. They rely on the anxiety of being exiled. They dry themselves in the context of dripping soup and suck the breasts of the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers in the north, which are rich in milk. A place rich in corn murals skulls and dynasties.
The short poems include: They insist on being at the scene in person. If their hearts are like a broken ship that is tilting and sinking, are the rats biting the flesh and trying to flee ashore one after another, are they screaming poems? The nouns and adjectives have endangered the traffic. They voluntarily Choosing unheroic exile, your hat is forgotten on the flagship. Chapter 3: Who holds up the neon wine of the city, tries to clink glasses with the red and swollen sunset of the end of the century, causes an epoch-making power outage, calmly approaches the sunset, and uses outdated metaphors to light the dry pipe. Squatting in the field and thinking, I am always interrupted by the sound of frogs. Who is deeper than the darkness? The heart of the land dragon is squeezed until the blood vessels are dilated. It is said that the twenty-story building he lives in is built on the back of a floating whale. Rapeseed flowers do not know the danger of the pile driver. The innocent and romantic beekeeper is hunched over his back. The city is mercilessly pushing out the last piece of honey. The air conditioner is running in a balanced manner, and the body temperature and the machine are dependent on each other. What makes me feel hot is the sunflower fan or a mint leaf in my memory that is attached to the forehead of the poem. The fields are flooded and dry at the same time. While being dragged to the execution ground with chemical fertilizers and pesticides, he did not forget to shout harvest slogans. With the extra money, he built a house in the col with black tiles, white walls, and Italian toilets. I spend my time doing art and talking on mobile phones. In the city, the network of blood vessels stretches out. In the countryside, we leave behind fences, dogs and old people. Whenever the strong wind blows away the rattan hat of the wage earner, I can’t help but stretch out my hand to straighten the smoke from the tiled roof of my hometown. The painter’s beard is getting longer and longer, and he is getting more and more lonely. The clothes are in tatters, half of the body is stuck in the picture frame, and the loser is smoking the master's Marlboro. He tears up a piece of the painting and wipes it on the table. Then he kneads it into a ball and relieves himself. Fried goose eggs and wine. The city and the countryside exchange lovers by contract. Looking at the view, he carefully folds a yellow handkerchief and waves it to someone to see. The fourth Chapter Watching in the wind for too long, my tears have dried up. I took off my sore eyes and stood on tiptoes of an orphan on a completely blind record. My original longing for the north came from a kapok tree, no matter how far it rotated, it could not make her red lips touch the oak tree. The shoulder is the last feather of the dream. You can hold it and fly for a moment, but you can't stay in a house for life. However, the spirit of the solitary smoke in the desert will always call the dwarf bamboo needles of the south to roll northward. They drift on the Yellow River and the Old Summer Palace is covered with frost. Erguotou is covered in smoke. Riding along the windy Chang'an Street with my clothes open, I learned a lot of retroflex sounds. They spit the silk everywhere and still go back to the south to make cocoons. My south is further south than Fujian. It is slightly bigger than the rainforest behind the house, and it is not so humid every year. Knocking over a few hot bird's nests and splashing out the ever-changing dialects. The desire for hard soil cannot change the southerners' pneumatic thinking. The trees in the north wind will no longer shed their leaves in the south and become evergreen. They hate that the juice is too full and miss the wind and snow filled with spirits and shrug coats. The waist of potatoes is hidden in the sentimentality, relying on the anxiety of being exiled. They dry themselves out in the context of dripping soup, sucking on the breasts of the Yangtze River and the Yellow River in the north. The milk is abundant and corn is abundant in the murals of the skull and the dynasty. The house must be short and thatched. The structure is: short (left and right structure) small (single structure). The pinyin is: ǎixiǎo. The phonetic pronunciation is: ㄞˇㄒ一ㄠˇ. Part of speech is: adjective.
What is the specific explanation of short? We will introduce it to you through the following aspects:
1. Explanation of words Click here to view the details of the plan
Short ǎixiǎo. (1) Short and small. (2) Low and small.
2. Citations and explanations
⒈ Gao Xiao. Quoting Bing Xin's "Send to Little Readers" 18: "The shops on both sides are relatively small." Lao She's "Camel Xiangzi" 4: "The wheat on the north bank of the river has sprouted awns, is short and dry, and a layer of dust has fallen on the leaves." ⒉ refers to short and small stature. Quote from Yang Shuo's "Night at Tongguan": "He is also wearing this military yellow cotton coat? But he is also carrying a large package on his back, which seems too heavy for his short stature."
3. Mandarin dictionary
It is small and short. Word translation English shortandsmall, lowandsmall, undersized French petit, bas
IV. Internet explanation
Short and short, pronounced as ǎixiǎo, is a Chinese word and an adjective. An example of usage is He is short. . (as a predicate)
About short synonyms
Skinny and weak
About short antonyms
Strong, tall, towering, tall and tall
Words about short
dwarf
Idioms about short
Dwarfs watch the show with small hands and feet. The dwarf is short, fat, short, capable and small. Don't say that the dwarf is watching the show, a small favor, the dwarf is watching the show, the dwarf is watching the show
About short words
The dwarf is watching the show, the dwarf is short and capable, the dwarf is watching the show, the dwarf is watching the show
About being short in a sentence
1. Being alone in a foreign land, I often think of my mother’s words of greetings that once made me think they were extremely wordy, my father’s increasingly shorter figure, and my younger brother who was tugging at the corner of my clothes. .
2. There is a small shed by the river.
3. Although my father is short in stature, he has supported our family with his own shoulders.
4. From a distance, the mountain looks so small and easy to climb. But when I reached the top of the mountain, I realized the bitterness and sadness.
5. Although this athlete is short in stature, he runs very fast.
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