Maybe I will live here in the future or say goodbye to the town tomorrow.
Go home or go to another strange place.
The small town has taken root in my bone marrow and will grow wildly.
Even if I leave, I will clearly remember that I once walked through Shihezi, a small town in Xinjiang.
The town is very small, on the map where machines and ink fell in love and were born.
Only one black spot proves the existence of this soil.
I walked along the bones and blood vessels of the town.
See a beautiful heart and an ugly stomach beating.
What is demanding for this town?
For a small town that rose on the once barren Gobi,
I only pray for food to feed us vagrants
Pray for peace and harmony.
The streets of a small town are covered with the footprints of Premier Zhou and Marshal Chen.
Ai Qing's house is hidden in an unknown corner.
I can't find any of these, only those with gray hair.
Frontier soldier, educated youth in Shanghai, girl in Shandong, sister in Hunan.
I contributed my youth to the border town and also to my descendants.
Located at the northern foot of Tianshan Mountain, the snow water of horses and horses flows through the town.
The water is very sweet. I remember that Yang Mu in the poem Ode to the Green Wind drank it.
Shihe drank it, so did I.
Yang Mushi is a famous poet.
I also write poems, but I'm not a poet.
Although some people call me poet Qi Lie on the Internet.
Although Li Bran and many friends in the house said
Write it, write it. In the future, the poet Qi Lie will get married and buy wine and cigarettes with the payment.
Hui Di grabbed my ear and made me promise to buy her a treadmill with the down payment.
Is this the sadness of the national flag or the sadness of poetry?
I have to rely on spiritual food to support my family.
Is the small town really where I make poetry my home?
I'm from Shandong. I like small towns in winter.
Without the sun and the moon, strong winds spread over trees and crops.
Ten thousand snowflakes are flying in the sky.
Buried many wild flowers and weeds.
I'd rather be a wild wolf running on the snowy field.
Looking for some hidden fire
Light the lanterns of small town poetry
There are many ants in the Gobi in 800 miles.
exist
clamber
-Okay.
I came across this town by accident.
Looking for a return route.
The joy of singing or being moved to tears
A small town that has been reckless for fifty years.
Left many people's footprints and buried many people.
I have walked in the footsteps of many people and know their names.
The younger generation will follow other people's bones like me.
But will they know the banner of writing poetry?
I used to live in Shihezi, a small town in Xinjiang.