Classical poems praising power plant maintenance workers
Standing on the head of Red May
Go deep among workers
Feel the jumping notes in the sun.
accidentally
drop
Touch the silent fruit forest
In the land of silence
suddenly
The sonorous song of labor sounded.
Echoes in the hearts of hundreds of millions of workers.
Reverberating between the blue sky and white clouds
The sound of birds falling on trees
A hot morning
cannot help doing
sunlight
rain and dew
spring breeze
Promote the flower of civilization in the city.
Popularize the fruits of rural labor
Full of beautiful scenery
Under the fluttering notes
Singing the song of labor happily
Song of labor
Bring good news of spring sowing.
Take Xia Yun's hope.
Let poetry fill the earth.
Any point dyeing painting
Song of labor
Eternal singing
Notes are constantly arching out of the ground.
Fruitful fruit
delicious
Fragrant and sweet
Poems in praise of power plant maintenance workers
Every day I drive the old Gengyun Liu in the vast fields.
Or climb a tall scaffold and do it in the air.
My soil is full of fragrant sweat.
Every piece of land in the countryside, every corner of the city.
Soap and cheap perfume can't be washed away.
The smell of my bone marrow and blood
I am a farmer or migrant worker with a bitter name.
I just want to raise a strong smile on the wheat in May.
I just want to have a shed or a humble abode on the edge of the city.
Let every table of rice, oil and salt be rich and fragrant.
Let cities and roads grow higher and wider in my sweat.
Every day is accompanied by the rumble of machines in busy factories.
Or holding hands? Made in China? Excellent hard work
The emotion cast by my steel flows silently.
Air, land, rivers and oceans, all over the world.
The flow of time and light cannot be washed away.
My calluses are embedded in my soul and brain.
I am a worker, an ordinary worker, a great and proud name.
I only hope that the sound of machines in May will be louder and happier.
I just want to have delicious food and warm dreams when I get home.
Let the elderly and children have the warmth and laughter of the sunset.
Let the present and the future be full of prosperity and hope.
I am a farmer, a worker and an intellectual.
Create happiness and create the world with your own hands and wisdom.
I am small and great, because
It is we who support ourselves and create a beautiful new life for mankind.
I despise parasites, walking animals, and unearned animals.
I am even more disgusted with those who lead a wretched life and are perverse in human civilization.
I am a laborer, an ordinary laborer and a great laborer.
The latest poem praising power plant maintenance workers
Labor Day Poetry: The Song of Eight Hours
We want to change the world,
We are tired of futility,
Just earning a living wage,
We never have time to think.
We need to smell the flowers,
We're going to bask in the sun,
We believe that:
God only allows eight hours of work.
From docks, workshops and workshops,
Assemble our team,
Strive for eight hours of work,
Eight hours' rest,
Eight hours is your own!
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