Modern poetry about spring should have a title author.

One of my spring-the ancient city

Muchuwai

Level my cultivated land.

My little yak

My single share plough

A small group of grandchildren

Walk along the fence

Sky blue petals

Start bending

Dew is afraid.

Wet a memory.

Frightened waxbill

Look at the celestial pole

I'm going to work.

Choose the seeds of your dreams.

Let them shine in your hands.

All fell into the water.