Modernity: Indian poet Robin Delanat Tagore
If I become a "golden flower" and grow on the high branch of that tree just for fun,
Laughing and swaying in the wind, dancing on the new leaves, mom, will you know me? ?
If you shout:
"son,
Where are you? "I was there snickering,
Without a word.
I will quietly open my petals and watch you work. ?
When taking a bath, wet hair hangs over your shoulders and passes through the tree-lined "golden flowers".
When you go to the prayer yard, you will smell the fragrance of this flower, but you don't know it comes from me. ?
When you sit at the window after lunch and read Ramayana, the shadow of that tree falls on your hair and knees.
I want to project my little shadow on your page, where you are reading. ?
But can you guess that this is a small shadow of your child? ?
When you take the lamp to the cowshed at dusk,
I'll suddenly fall to the ground again,
To be your child again, please tell me a story. ?
"Where have you been, you bad boy?" ?
"I won't tell you, mom." That's what you and I were trying to say.
2. banyan tree? [
Modern: Indian poet Robin Delanat Tagore?
Hey,
You stand by the pool, by the hairy banyan tree,
Have you ever forgotten that child? Like the bird that built its nest on your branch and left you? ?
Don't you remember how he sat by the window and looked at your tangled roots in surprise? ?
Women often go to the swimming pool,
In exchange for a jar full of water,
Your big shadow will shake on the water,
Like a sleeping person struggling to wake up. ?
Sunshine dances on the microwave, like a small shuttle weaving a golden carpet. ?
Two ducks are beside the reed, swimming in the shadow of the reed, and the child sits there quietly thinking. ?
He wants to be the wind, blowing through your rustling branches; Want to be your shadow, grow up with the sun on the water; Want to be a bird, perching on your highest branch; I also want to be that duck, swimming between reeds and shadows.
3. Colored forest
Modern: China writer Richard Richardson
The most mysterious thing in nature is the forest, and the most abundant thing in the forest is color! ?
Morning is the color of awakening. ?
The distant mountains loomed from the blue sky,
The green trees are covered with crystal dew,
It's winding
The river makes strong tea,
Yellow and clear.
Snow-white pebbles paved the bottom of the river,
The river flows quietly. ?
The tone of awakening needs sound to set off, and a kingfisher is chirping and singing on the tree head. ?
Noon is a bold and unrestrained color. ?
Dark mountains hook the blue sky with wavy lace, and dense green trees are lush and deep.
The river flows fast,
With dazzling silver waves,
Willow trees that protect the river build a red corridor.
Martin's white flowers are blooming, dazzling white. ?
Bold timbre just needs sound as a foil.
A birch boat came,
The paddle wings make the river rattle.
Dusk is the color of meditation. ?
The brown peaks carry a magnificent sunset,
The setting sun evaporates the afterheat into gorgeous clouds,
Clouds are gently covered with dark green trees,
No breeze, no waves,
The dignified milky mist fluttered gently on the water.
The tone of meditation should be inspired by sound,
The tractor tracks creaked and the smiling surveyor came back.
The forest is rich in connotation and inspiration!
Color is the life of the forest! ?
4. Egret
Modern: China writer Guo Moruo?
Egret is a poem with seven essences. ?
The combination of pigments and the size of graphics are suitable.
The crane is too big and stiff,
That is, like pink ibis or grey ibis,
I think it's a little too big,
This is very unusual.
However, egrets are so common that quilt people forget its beauty.
Snow-white withered hair, streamlined structure of the whole body, iron beak and blue feet, too long to increase one point, too short to decrease one point, an element suddenly too white, an element too black.
When I was in Qingshuichang, there was a hooked fish standing on both sides.
The whole site became a painting embedded in a glass frame. The size of the venue seems to be a dressing box designed by an artificial egret.
On a sunny morning, I often see it standing alone on the top of a small tree.
Does it look safe,
And very leisurely.
This is a hobby that other birds can hardly express.
People say it's a lookout,
But is it really watching?
Occasionally, egrets fly low in the yellow sky.
This is also a gospel in rural life.
It is clear, vivid and alive.
Maybe some people will find the fly in the ointment,
Egrets can't sing
But isn't the egret itself a beautiful song? No, this song is too loud.
Egret is really a poem, a Gong prose poem with rhyme in its bones.
5. Song of Rain
Modern: Lebanese writer Ji Bolun
We are the silver thread cast by God from heaven; Nature catches us and uses us to beautify the mountains and rivers.
We are beautiful pearls, falling from the crown of Ashtar's goddess. Our daughter took us away in the morning and scattered us all over the world.
I am crying, but the mountains are laughing. I fell, but the flowers held their heads high.
Dark clouds and the earth are lovers. I sympathize with them and deliver letters for them. I got into it,
Dilute the strong desire of one party and soothe the injured heart of the other party.
Lightning heralds my arrival,
The rainbow in the sky declared the end of my journey.
Life is like this,
It begins at the foot of angry thunder and lightning, and then ends in the peaceful embrace of death. ?
I rose from the sea and soared on the wings of the sky. I walked down when I saw the beautiful garden.
I went to kiss the lips of the flowers and hug the branches.
When all is silent,
I tapped my slender fingers on the crystal glass in the window.
Sounds make up songs,
Intoxicate a sentimental heart.
The high temperature of the atmosphere gave birth to me,
But I want to dispel this fiery atmosphere,
Just like women,
They always get the power to conquer them from men. ?
I am a sigh of the ocean, a tear of the sky and a smile of the earth. So is love. They are sighs in the ocean of feelings, tears in the sky, and smiles in the heart.