1, I love this land deeply.
There are footprints left by ancestors on this land. They once lived in this land and defended it with their lives. They walked the last moment of their lives in this land. They wrote history with experience, and their familiar back was buried by years, leaving only the short pier that people miss;
This land also has our footprints, and we shoulder their unfulfilled wishes. I deeply love this land as their footprints go into the future. This land has my memories and memories, and this land has my footprints and experiences. I will take care of it all my life until the last moment.
2. Farmers and land
Only by bending down deeply can you talk to the land, like mothers and children, like trees and flowers. That deep feeling is rooted in the blood of your ancestors and passed down from generation to generation. The sun is from east to west, the seasons are from spring to summer to autumn and winter, and the years are from youth to old age. What remains unchanged is your feelings for the land.
Your teacher's promise to you, you bent down heavily and turned into a lean sorghum, with roots deeply rooted in the soil and branches reaching out to the sky. You can't tell which is the crop, which is you, you and the land. You live and multiply from generation to generation, you sleep in the land, your son cultivates in the land, and your children grow up in the land.
3. Land
Who is eroding your soul, who is sending me to the dawn in the light of night.
I asked myself quietly, who can prove something to me, why the moths in the dark are approaching the light, and why the sound of water can rekindle the life of Yanyan crops. My eyes are a beam of light, from the southern end of corn to the northern end, from the eastern end to the western end, and the sound can also give me the courage to move forward in the dark.
Pumpkin, cantaloupe, eight spices, pumpkin, corn, sunflower and the first bud are irrigated and fertilized in the hot sun, expecting the charm of cool breeze. At night, the sun, the moon and the stars are gentle, the humid air spreads under the night, and mosquitoes patronize my face, full of itching. I silently endured, only hoping that the day of wheat yellow would come.
My love for the land is sincere. I have an appointment with you tonight. You gave me the joy of a bumper harvest in the Ming Dynasty. Fragrant soil, who let you bloom in the quiet years, I stood on your chest and shouted softly, stopping for a long time, and then I fell asleep quietly in the quiet beauty.