Birds awaken the spring of modern poetry.

Night after night, pure white

Slowly become a memory

And those who are full of human warmth

story

White ward, flustered operating table

My family and friends are surrounded by my "happiness"

Repel the fear of early spring

cold current

Nowadays, I can hear birds singing every day.

Echoes in the sky

They suppressed their feelings for a winter.

Give without reservation

Earth and forest

close one's eyes in repose

Think of wild orchids by the river in my hometown.

Be like a star.

be filled with joy

Golden willow by the river.

I believe it can't wait to sprout.

As a result, I thought of Xiao Hong.

And her "March in a Small Town"

Aunt natui

Destined sadness,

March is destined to be my memory.

Birds talk seriously and sing tactfully.

Get up early and get greedy.

Let my memory fade for a while.

They have been singing.

Afraid of missing spring.

This spring, but

I will miss spring.