Birds return to their nests,
Although it is a port.
And come back with the sunset.
Flap your wings,
Sprinkle the sunset on the river
White-headed reed,
And dressed up as a beautiful woman.
Poetry 2: In the Woods in the suburbs
Green again, my grove.
These humble lives, such as trees and flying insects, come with spring.
Under the soil, I heard the sound of earthworm crawling and knocked down the door closed by the soil with my soft head.
On the grass in the grove, I saw a group of goats waving their long beards and bleating.
Shook my youth and soul.
A black goat came to me leisurely, with tears of happiness on his face.
Poetry 3:? Sunset in Qiu Jiang
West Mountain is drunk with summer, and all birds return together.
Autumn waters fall, and the ship closes the net and carries the fish back.
When the wind blows, the reed flowers fly, sigh and get tired.
I often hate the rush of time, and I feel very comfortable singing a song.
Sorrow and joy are in the palm of your hand, and your heart is chasing the sunset.