"Snow World" by Li Hanrong
Walking in the snow, we no longer talk, the snow is spreading the language of the sky, conveying the ancient language. The snow in the sky is also on the ground Snow, there are no boundaries between heaven and earth. We are humans on earth and gods in heaven. The snow in the Tang Dynasty has not melted yet and will never melt. The thickest snow is preserved in poetry. The blood that fell on my hand turned into something, which reminded me of the love that passed through the generations. I thought about going to the clouds to see how these hexagonal flowers bloomed due to the severe cold. What was her look like at the moment when she blossomed? Did she fall vertically or at an angle? Walking down from such a steep and high sky, is she dizzy or scared? From water to fog, from fog to flowers, this process of life and death, this touching miracle! The weak but great spirit walked through the long road in the sky and came to the rolling mortal world. This one and the other and the many that fall on my eyelashes, were your tears my tears in your previous life? You have found my eyes and you want to return to my eyes. You melted and became my tears, you are still my tears. Nothing ever dies except birth. Jingwei's sea is still brewing salt for us, Li Bai's wine is still in the cup, Li Bai's moon is still there, the river is pushing the ancient stones as always, the same hand lines as ours can be found on any stone, last year or very early In the past, the well water that contained your figure also contained my figure. Looking up, every snowflake is dropping news about you to me. The nameless snowman you created in the distant wilderness is exactly who I will be in the next life...
Forefinger: Believe in the future ( Poetry)
Forefinger
When the spider web mercilessly sealed off my stove
When the smoke of ashes sighs the sorrow of poverty
I still stubbornly spread the ashes of disappointment
Write with beautiful snowflakes: Believe in the future
When my purple grapes turn into late autumn dew
When my flowers are nestled in other people's feelings
I still stubbornly use the frost-covered dead vines
to write on the desolate earth: Believe in the future
I want to use my fingers to surge towards the horizon of the waves
I want to use my palm to support the sea of ??the sun
The warm and beautiful pen swaying with the dawn
Write in a child's handwriting: Believe in the future
The reason why I firmly believe in the future
I believe in the eyes of people in the future
She has set aside history The eyelashes of dust
She has pupils that can see through the chapters of the years
No matter what people think about our rotten flesh
The melancholy of being lost and the pain of failure
Should we express moved tears and deep sympathy
Or give a contemptuous smile and bitter ridicule
I firmly believe that people have deep feelings for us
Those countless explorations, losses, failures and successes
will definitely give enthusiastic, objective and fair evaluations
Yes, I am anxiously waiting for their evaluation
Friends, believe firmly in the future
Believe in indomitable efforts
Believe in youth that defeats death
Believe in the future and love life
The rain in the south and the rain in the north
The rain in the south is lingering, gentle, delicate and long-lasting;
The rain in the north is bold, hearty, rough and long-lasting. simply.
The rain in the south is like the love of a girl in the south, shy, affectionate and reserved;
The rain in the north is like the love of a boy in the north, blazing like a flame, passionate and unrestrained.
The rain in the south reminds people of Dongxiao pastoral songs, spring flowers and autumn moon, the wine-scented Xinghua Village and the smoke-filled mountains and cottages...
The rain in the north , reminds people of Huang Zhongdalu, the golden sword and the iron horse, the thick plateau, the flat fertile soil, the horn-like corn and the red sorghum burning like fire...
I was in the rain alley in the south, Wearing a small bamboo hat, stepping on the ancient bluestone slabs, I experienced the grace of the long-legged rain. The warmth that only had the fun of rain but no dripping feeling was unforgettable to me.
I have also experienced the baptism of the downpour in the vast wilderness of the north, barefoot and holding a weak little flower umbrella. The utter joy, the great joy that wished it could wash away my soul, makes me still excited when I recall it.
I often think about why the rain in the south and the rain in the north are different in the same land. Could it be that as far back as the Pre-Tao period and the Bronze Age, when the Qin Dynasty was bright and the Han Dynasty was off, the rain in the south and the rain in the north were already distinct and had distinct personalities?
Think about it, if there was only one kind of rain, one color, and one appearance in such a huge country and land, it would be so dull, monotonous, and boring.
I love the drizzle in the south and the torrential rain in the north.
The rain in the south is like my sister,
The rain in the north is like my brother.
Farewell Cambridge
Gently I left,
Just as I came gently;
I waved gently ,
Farewell to the clouds in the western sky.
The golden willows by the river,
are the bride in the sunset;
The beautiful shadow in the ripples,
is in my heart Ripple.
The green banana plants on the soft mud,
swaying oilily under the water;
In the soft waves of the Cam River,
I am willing to be a waterweed!
The pool under the shade of elm trees,
is not a clear spring,
it is a rainbow in the sky;
crushed among the floating algae,< /p>
Precipitated rainbow-like dreams.
Looking for a dream? Take a long punt pole,
Walk back to where the grass is greener;
Load a boat full of stars,
Sing songs in the colorful starlight.
But I can’t sing,
Quietness is the shengxiao of parting;
The summer insects are also silent for me,
Silence is today Late Cambridge!
Quietly I left,
just as quietly as I came;
I waved my sleeves,
not taken away A cloud.