A brick built on the Great Wall
In my ancient memory.
Still engraved with Meng Jiangnu's sad cry.
If I were a stone,
A rock sleeping at the foot of Yanshan Mountain,
In my hard body,
From time to time, the tinkling mountain spring looms.
If I were a plaque,
The plaque hanging on the wall,
On my dusty body,
Up to now, there is still the ink fragrance of "the first pass in the world".
If I were a flower,
A wave on the Bohai Sea,
On the surface of my life,
It also reflects the vicissitudes of the first emperor's face.
If I were a bird,
A bird living in a pigeon's nest,
Between the clouds I flew over,
I also echoed Chairman Mao's poem "Langtaosha".
You know,
The land under my feet,
Whether in memory or in dreams,
On the body, on the water, between the clouds,
You always appear in every day of my life!
Today, I went to participate in the selection of the first draft of the Xin Lei Prize for Literature, and found this work in a mountain of manuscripts. The author is a junior high school student, but he has a deep understanding of the culture of his hometown. I think this is a good poem. The author has no flowery rhetoric, but there is a love for his hometown between the lines.
Eight-Nation Alliance can't take the Great Wall.
Japanese artillery can't blow up the Great Wall.
We China people can't destroy the Great Wall!
We China people can't destroy the Great Wall!