It is also the only one that can be with wheat and corn.
Talk to people who are nostalgic
Sow the seeds of hope by hand in spring.
The sentimentality of this village will accumulate into
The vigorous growth of crop after crop.
In summer, the village left all its emotions to the love of the sun.
Words stand on the edge of wheat seedlings and corn seedlings.
Quiet lyricism never tires.
The drooping ears of wheat and the solid corn ... are full of seeds.
Who is talking about fate again and again, aggravating autumn worries?
Including stories and joys and sorrows piled up in the granary.
Cold and chaotic winter.
The village put Tibetan folk customs into the pot.
Villagers who will be boiled.
Chorus of rural quality and history
Ring over and over again
The spring flowers and autumn fruits contained in the earth are touching everywhere.
Village Modern Poetry 2 Father is a desolate village.
I woke up from a nightmare in the city.
The soul is in the undulating building.
Trekking from one building to another.
Looking for a locust tree as lonely as his father.
A father as stubborn as a plow share.
Guard a few acres of thin land with his cattle.
I hope to dig out something interesting from the soil.
Fill the barren old age
A village dotted with weeds, cow dung and rice flowers.
A wrinkled country road
The pond in front of the door dried up into your eyes.
There is no frog, song for you.
All summer night, except the scalper.
Only the old courtyard is on guard.
After years of wandering, I have blurred your face.
Indulge in the illusion of the city
My heart is covered with coptis chinensis.
I don't understand until I break the cup.
This city belongs to others.
My father's village belongs to me.
The modern poetry of the village 3 tore the village to pieces and threw it into the sea.
In the depths, soak
My hometown is beautiful, just like a cow in my hometown.
Waving its tail to fight mosquitoes on the high mountain.
browse
Smoke rises.
The second brother and second sister-in-law next door always
be picky
Then both of them carried hoes and went into the fields.
(of a person) sweating
I always look at fireflies flying from the sea.
Twinkle, twinkle, fluorescent light up the night in my hometown.
There is a meteor passing by.
People pray in their hearts, the sea
It's a hundred thousand miles away from home.
I am a "trumpet player" in the world outside the mountain. The trumpet is called a camera.
Performance, style, etc of playing; Play (music)
Another beautiful and touching note.
There is no my hometown, that village.
How many times have I pulled my hometown into my dream?
A cicada that keeps chirping
And the naked child, playing a prank.
Muddle the water in my hometown, and the fish will flood in.
When the cock crows, the sky is high and the clouds are light.
I was beaten by my father in a warm bed.
In the dead of night
thunder and lightning
It's raining hard.
After the lightning, my cow and I
Plow the fields in rice fields and look up at the sky.
Smoke billowed in the village kitchen, and cows hissed.
I didn't receive any grain because of the drought.
In the diaojiao building, grandpa smoked a cigarette.
Poetic folding
I stare at the distance, the distance.
deep sea
I moved the village to the ocean of my heart.
Riding a humpback cow, crossing the lush ridge in the southwest.
Na Pianhai, which has entered the soul, has a slight blue ocean.
Hometown, village
And that stream.
In my heart.
Modern poetry is in more than four villages in the countryside.
Happy village
At this moment, standing in a happy village.
Listen to the concert in the moonlight in my hometown
Frogs knock on the loess.
Crisp but not sad
Fireflies glow.
Waiting for the sound of wandering in the stars and moons.
The river gurgled.
There are children's songs hummed by mother.
The night was painted black.
Light is shy.
go home
What a warm verb.
Only eat hot hometown meals.
It's like going back to the cradle of memory.
My cousin who loves me is wrinkled.
An elder full of stories
Tell the story of Xu Xian the White Snake over and over again.
Familiar cargo ship
Walk through every home and village with wind and rain on your back.
That familiar night
The villagers spent the night breaking corn one by one.
I used to live in a small village.
Full of my sweet childhood.
My happy and simple family lives there.
Standing in my hometown at night
Take off the mask and take it with you.
gentle breeze
Can't help but tremble.
firefly
My childhood friend.
Watching you from a distance
Go through the ditch behind the house
Flying in the silent corn field
earth
Don't fall in love with me
I just want to touch the ground gently with my feet.
Close to this happy village
Melt that endless heart into a happy time.
I can't forget my village.
No, you can't.
I can't forget the heartbeat of the village.
On her chest.
I hobbled along.
You can't forget the village hand.
The farther I go.
The tighter I pull.
My memory
Like my increasingly nearsighted eyes
But I can still sing a song.
Or in a dream?
See my hometown clearly.
That's fleeting
Broken tiles, stoves and faces
Awaken by the barren land
hunchback
village entrance
The old man's yawn, the pain of drying cigarettes.
Farther by the river
Women's hands, the bitterness of put away clothes.
The laughter of a group of children
Is it shouting and shouting outside the village?
How to define my village?
The smoky dusk outside the adobe wall.
The villagers' songs under the scabbed old locust tree
still
Follow the cow in pursuit of the hope of dawn.
no
My village should be my deeper and deeper yearning.
Let go of the tie more and more.
My village
I can't forget my village
No, you can't.
I can't forget the heartbeat of the village.
On her chest.
I hobbled along.
You can't forget the village hand.
The farther I go.
The tighter I pull.
My memory
Like my increasingly nearsighted eyes
But I can still sing a song.
Or in a dream?
See my hometown clearly.
That's fleeting
Broken tiles, stoves and faces
Awaken by the barren land
hunchback
village entrance
The old man's yawn, the pain of drying cigarettes.
Farther by the river
Women's hands, the bitterness of put away clothes.
The laughter of a group of children
Is it shouting and shouting outside the village?
How to define my village?
The smoky dusk outside the adobe wall.
The villagers' songs under the scabbed old locust tree
still
Follow the cow in pursuit of the hope of dawn.
no
My village should be my deeper and deeper yearning.
Let go of the tie more and more.
Six rural modern poems, grass, snow, snow
The village where snowflakes are flying is hidden from time to time.
The smoke from the kitchen is floating, and the old long thoughts are floating.
Interwoven with the snow dance,
Occasionally, hungry birds fly over the branches.
The meaning of life's self-improvement through singing.
Red rooster jumped on the wall at dawn, breaking the silence in the morning.
The village opened its brooding and melancholy hibernating eyes,
awake from a sound sleep
/
In the soft snow and winding country roads.
Print a string of footprints that I don't know where to go.
Philosophy shows the continuous trail of life.
Lovely snowman, accompanied by innocent laughter of children.
Reverberated in the farmhouse.
/
An empty field is like a blank sheet of paper.
The falling snow is an elegant winter rhyme.
Tell the hope of life under the snow
On the hillside in the ridge, under the hedge, a piece of grass died.
Under the cover of snow, it seems to be dead, holding its breath.
A burning heart is quietly underground.
Defeat unyielding beliefs,
Waiting for the east wind to return.
/
I listened quietly to pieces of white snow.
Yingying sang, trembling with her hands open.
Memories of that dusty childhood.
In the thatched cottage, on the ice flowers on the window of the heatable adobe sleeping platform.
Reflecting grandma's kind eyes, holding her young.
I am humming an old snowflake ballad.
Sing the days when snowflakes are flying and frozen.
The whole family gathered around the burning brazier.
The fun of warming kang
Rural modern poetry 7 times of acacia
It is full of spring, summer and autumn.
A branch of a dream
、、、
Looking forward to winter, I will go to the appointment.
Snow butterflies spread their wings,
In the reverberation of "Liang Zhu Becomes a Butterfly"
Fly lightly from outer space
All tenderness and elegance.
Cross the ridge and jump at the window.
、、、
Village with a long history, enter
sleep in peace
In winter, condensed into a song.
Pure love poems
、、、、、、
The village after the snow
Like a blooming water lily
Elegant, soft and quiet
Eternal fragrance
、、、、
Let go of the sound of the season and enjoy it.
Sing!
Timely snow indicates a good harvest.
Tell a story about love with the earth.
The story of love
、、、、、、
On the Poetry of the Earth
A thousand years of crystal precipitation.
xiang silei
、、、、
Dried wheat seedlings, open green.
Small mouth, welcome snow butterfly.
kiss
Magpies fly to the branches and twitter.
Play the melody of love.
A northwest wind is busy.
Tailor's dowry
、、、、
Beautiful blue sky, wrapped in red
Wind, roof, branches ......
Snowflakes are falling
Love in one place, blessing.
To babble/talk nonsense
、、、
Let the bride in Su E be as beautiful as an angel.
Dedicate oneself to the earth
Moisturize things silently and deeply.
Love for life.