A poem describing Labor Day 1 Song of Labor Day.
In May, the fire-like light burned in Yuan Ye.
The water is flowing in the frog, and the flowers have grown into fruits.
There are some working people walking in the fields, and their hoes are waving.
Eternal glory, simple my long-lost feelings.
This is a season of blood and fire, and some people are working hard.
Take some time to put your ideas and songs into the carriage of time.
In a flash, it disappeared into the cement forest of the city.
They hold the sacred flame of history to illuminate the dusty past.
We should praise and remember those historical heroes.
It should be remembered that the working people should be grateful to the martyrs.
They left us poems written in blood.
One dark night, they planted the seeds on their heads.
Plants grow wildly in our minds, and this light can guide them.
Those eyes that think in the dark
Some college students running around are trying to describe it.
The image of a hero, they wrote in a boundless night:
Standing and reading the history of kneeling, I saw the heroes 85 years ago.
Time draws blood and fire from their marrow.
Not just water or salt.
The whole of May hides the light of history.
Dewdrops in the grass quietly touched the girl's skin.
This may, my simple mood.
Meet a beautiful poem
The fields in the distance have strengthened the belief in labor.
My singing became a fairy tale.
In this season, sometimes there is no land to float.
The second poem describing Labor Day is "Dedicated to the Working People"
Yesterday's wind blew the horn of labor.
Today, the clear sky indicates.
It's time to give birth.
Laborers are hardworking farmers.
In the fields in the early morning, there are farmers working.
Form a simple picture
Workers are best reflected in farmers.
Facing the Loess back into the air
Hard work and simplicity year after year.
Being friends with the earth is a great cold.
Just celebrating the new year.
Today, I saw the workers working in the fields.
The warmth of the morning makes them integrate with the earth.
Sweat all over your face.
They just laughed and went on working.
everywhere
Shake my heart
Working people are loyal to the soil, and working people are not mediocre.
Working people are sweating, and working people are the most capable.
The working people are the most industrious. They are farming.
The working people were praised, and they were really moved.
Working people are dry on holidays, and working people are sweating.
I am the son of working people, and I admire them.
The working people are the poorest and the working people are the most glorious.
Labor day, a holiday for working people.
They don't know whether to rest or travel.
I only know how to farm after rain.
look
They walked into the field with hoes on their shoulders.
Poem 3 "Song of Rural Labor" describes May Day.
Our simple wish
It is endless labor.
It is to make labor a virtue and a craft.
hand down from generation to generation
When the sun comes out, go to work in the fields.
Rest at sunset
This goes deep into the tradition and habit of bone marrow.
As pure as a father's face.
This is irresistible.
Day after day
year after year
We held the field carefully in our hands.
On the heart
In the countryside, in four songs,
Labor is our way to maturity.
Now happiness begins with simple labor.
From all angles of the fields and the countryside
Surround us from all directions.
Love work
Our tired bodies are pure.
Reciting poems on May 1 ST Labor Day VIII
The chain of life has changed my steps.
Inspired our desire to plow the fields and burn bricks.
Scaffolding and hanging tower
Continuously improve the happiness index of our workers.
At the same time, it also makes our living cost.
Roll forward like a snowball
We mixed sweat with cement for building.
Plug in the wings of imagination and the password of culture
Build the Great Wall of China.
Life needs us to survive and reproduce.
So, we put the rhythm of labor on the high-speed rail.
Put the color of labor
Attract to books and advertisements
Labor exhausted us.
We are on the podium.
In the writing room
In the light of the laboratory.
work
Labor is like a meshing gear.
Keep turning
We are in the hot sun.
Work in the deep well of a coal mine
We are like sunburned bark.
Like a dyed macaque.
And labor is like a train with no beginning and no end.
Rumble
Labor is also like a poem.
Row after row in front of our workers.
As mild as spring.