Selected readings of Xing Rongqin's poems

Struggler I seem to be rippling in the Black Sea. There are several fishing fires in the distance-the night is heavy, and the fishing fires ignite my lover, writing our struggle history alone on the clumsy and winding train. My eager eyes are swaying in the distance of fishing fire, and my warm heart is buried in the depths of the night. With your bumpy rhythm, it beats vigorously, takes root and sprouts, waiting for spring.