In May in Taiyuan, I clearly smelled the aroma of wheat
The familiar smell and the vast wheat fields
all came from thousands of miles away Central Plains
It seems that the entire April has pulled up a silk net between the loess and wheat seedlings
Maturity seems to have become another attitude, infinite sadness
About Thousands of miles of wheat fields, I never dare to hope
The fire underground and the body buried under the straw
In such a huge city, those sorrows have nowhere to hide
Remembering the Central Plains, the golden loess and the dotted villages
Many years later, the old scalpers and iron plows are still so loyal
But the wheels remain the same, where is the future of the countryside
< p>Billions of farmers are watchingBut I am living in a dream, letting the wind and rain beat at my heart
Son of the earth, why don’t I want to be like a cuckoo flying lightly
Like a wheat field, I have my dream
Just leaving or staying is another kind of despair
I have never thought that the entire Central Plains
is already soil Harvesting large fields of wheat with sweat
Those ditches, chimneys and wheat fields
Those children, feet and faces
They are very much like the father who watches the village. He Niang
The turbulent Yellow River and the old granary
Like lonely field stalks separated from the ranks, hope is piled on the hills
The call of the Central Plains, the land is filled with lovesickness
No matter how arrogant I am
I can never escape the shackles of the loess, just like the watch of my parents
With every harvest, parents seem to be buried deeply
The village that protects their children with the loess
At 18:00 on May 6, 2012, Taiyuan Park DS9 dormitory