4 poems
1
[bud]
This park is full of colors.
Blooming flowers
This is a beautiful drive.
In every gentle smile
Have the shadow of a child
2
[Wings]
That little heart with wings
I can't wait to fly into space.
because
Stars in the night sky
Blinking is tempting.
Want to pick a full one?
flower basket
For teachers and children.
three
[excited eyes]
In the days of flowers and noise
June bid farewell to the season of spring breeze.
Clear and transparent
The opening of pure mind
Jade curtains slowly opened.
Little angel with makeup on the stage
Let the baby talk in detail.
The tree is full of brilliant stories.
The sky is as blue as water.
Who used a wet red handkerchief?
Cover your excited eyes.
four
Qilv Children's Day Park
Flowers bloom, laughter is sweet,
The noodles in June are fragrant.
White ducks swim in clear water,
Shuang Mu paddles and swings to draw a boat.
Chang 'e envies Children's Day,
Weaver girl is too lazy to be a fairy.
Who is in charge of Yaotai?
Xin Lei in her childhood.
Some poems on Children's Day on June 1st.
water lily
▓lyre
Baby, go to sleep. God, it's so dark. It's dark.
The hole torn by lightning has been sewn up,
Don't worry about the rain coming in. No need.
I stay on the edge of your dream and protect you with my roots.
Mine and the night. The only candle.
Cold hands. Your bed is as clear as a wave, and the wind hides the clouds well.
Come and play games with you tomorrow. Sleep in deep water.
Go to sleep, baby, the old paint on the knocker has fallen off.
Hongqiao, still drinking water in the lake, has passed so many years.
I see you again, on this late autumn shore,
Baby, I hold you. There are swimming fish in this river.
My heart is like a cloud in London in May.
The sun is dancing. After the fog cleared.
The river makes way for the grass, just as I let you go and ran away.
Your round face is staring blankly at the whole autumn,
Just like I faced you. confused
Close your eyes and you will remember the fragrance delivered that afternoon.
It's raining in Mao Mao, and in the afternoon, your face turns red.
The hand of the sun is wanton. On your blooming lake.
Tonight, the moonlight is a little cold, separated by weeping willows, so,
Memories are long and sad, baby.
Sleep, my lotus. Use your sleep and sleep transparently.
Have a good sleep. Let my sleep be the same as yours, and make the clouds bluer.
Let the bird return to its nest. Let the chapped lips become soft again.
Baby. Sleep, baby, sleep, sleep.
Qiu Si, a native of Zhoushi
Xiao Yun
Sleep is light and cold, the wind is soft and the tassels are soft, and the bushes are beginning to appear.
Yandu Jiangnan, high curative value and withered red leaves.
The barren terrace is deep in the courtyard, with little green and no trace, and Yinger makes lilac knots.
Who can say that you lean against the railing after singing?
Worried. Liang Manchen, spring dream to the clouds, the assembly number is light.
Go around the West Building and read all the flowers.
Autumn scenery is full of words to be written, eager to send mountains and rivers.
Don't ask when there will be a bright moon, look at the full moon tonight.
Free translation of words:
I just woke up and felt a little cold. The wind blew into the house and hit the tassel tent.
Indoor and outdoor have been filled with the fragrance of chrysanthemums.
Those swallows and geese are going to fly to the south for the winter, but they have just arrived in Jiangnan.
Maple trees in the north are covered with autumn dew and gradually wither.
And I, a "desolate platform and deep courtyard", my little moss gradually withered,
The warbler is also a sad cry. They disappeared after singing,
Leaving me leaning against the railing, I woke up from last night's drunkenness, but who can I tell?
Worrying endlessly, people went to the empty building, and the bird's nest was sealed for a long time.
A short time is like a spring dream, and it is like going to the clouds and finding no place.
Only go around the pavilions in the west to see what flowers can be folded, but there are still many.
My heart has been relieved, facing this autumn color,
I'm just used to remembering every word in my heart, and I know my hard work will be rewarded.
No matter how much water there is in Qian Shan, I can spread these words far away.
At this point, I don't have to care if the moon is full tonight.
Why don't you wait until the moonlight tonight and tell me yourself?
Diffuse, or the death of a crow
a group travelling together
Crows die at night and fly last.
Raised dust and light.
Granular death permeates the air,
This kind of death makes people hold their breath.
Breathing is a crime in the dark.
I don't know which is fiction, night or death.
But crows are real. It's black, not colored,
This is a resistance to color. Its flight,
Contrary to all directions. Its magnetic eyes are better than death.
More attractive and irresistible.
So it's imposed at night,
I cursed it with all my strength.
The crow's curse never came true,
People cover their ears and live kindly,
Smiles and tears were exaggerated on his face.
But who cried abstractly in the crowd?
Crying without tears and face,
The elephant is accompanying the crow.
But death is silent, it just floats,
Sharp shapes come from squeezing.
How can the night be broken to become a crow?
How can crying diffuse into silence?
The stillbirth of a crow gave birth to another crow.
Just as crying brings an echo,
And a huge, unfathomable silence.
Now it is silence that stops the crow from flying.
Its curse gave way to higher compassion.
A crow died, and the night suddenly became deeper.
The flight is still in the dark,
There is another crow in the air.
mother tongue
God's favoured son
A small group of ants with swords cling to God.
Secular love, yearning and enemies of neighbors are all waiting in the ear.
Constitute the whole of life, and also constitute
Their self-control and understanding of death
Life that wakes up in chaos cries.
As their mother tongue, they secretly hold the secret of chaos.
In the shadow of the morning, twinkling stars and water droplets.
Like a long scroll of joys and sorrows, it is beyond recognition.
From the powerful to the weak map, this distant fate
Born with it, it is hard to reverse.
From simple roots to wonderful beetles
The form of arrogance is brewing in my mind.
As easy to appear as humans.
Get out of the earth irresistibly.
Holding thousands of candles, thousands of careful hearts.
Watching from their abandoned dock.
Mysticism prays in the shadows
Their mother tongue is enough to make people cry.
Like a cold knife, it has traveled thousands of miles.
Back to the hidden behavior sheath
I'm dying, and I can't tell anyone.
Attached to the white paper, scattered on it.
Stay among the lonely crows and shine in the dusk.
No one can say all this in his mother tongue.
Self biography
▓ Jiang Deming
I am a voice.
I am a round egg.
The crackle still exists today.
A cricket died.
I am the last song before it dies.
I am a grasshopper.
I'm flying, flying.
I was forced to land again and again.
look into the sky
I can't believe I'm alive today.
I spent my childhood with pigeons.
Fat woman who goes shopping every day.
Is my mother
My eccentric father keeps many pigeons.
Grey pigeon, grey pigeon
Only one is blue.
Standing at the end of the iron cage
I used to be alone.
I meditated all day with my chin in my hands.
I still have a pair of eyes
I have seen crooked flowers and straight roots.
I see the moon like a boat.
Cake-like sun
I also saw some rabbits, white ones.
Green and purple grass.
Finally, I saw someone.
Lightest paper man.
He is under the street lamp.
He looked up and saw tall cities and chimneys.
He followed the wind, stopped or walked.
Keep turning that sad face.
Some fallen leaves are floating like him.
An alcoholic
Lightest paper man
Finally, he and the fallen leaves rested in the same puddle.
The last little girl to collect biological specimens
Pick it up.
Like a beetle crawling.
I am alive, living to this day.
My past is an empty bottle.
My head is on it.
I still have a cigarette in my mouth.
glimmer
This night, I seem to be refusing something.
I heard a crow crying.
A poem dedicated to Children's Day on June 1st.
Buds are your years.
Wrapped in green leaves
Jiao zhi jiao
Like a smile in my sleep.
Spring is your festival.
Singing is full of your schoolbag.
Just take out a song and say it.
Jump, jump
Prosperity is your waiting.
When you can control the world.
Colorful dreams
Will come true with your creation.
Ah, you are the earliest festival of mankind.
It is also the most permanent expectation of mankind.
You are the earliest enlightenment of mankind.
This is the greatest hope of mankind.
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