I especially like wheat. The wind blows the wheat waves, which is still the biggest and most beautiful scenery in my eyes. Whenever the wheat is about to ripen, my mother often assigns me to see how long it will take for the wheat to ripen.
Young me, riding a bicycle, walked through the wheat fields. The wind swept through the wheat fields and rolled up waves of wheat. At that time, the wheat had bid farewell to weakness and became very strong. This makes the wind blow very seriously and skillfully. On the vast Yuan Ye, waves of wheat surge like tribes, uniform and tireless.
I learned to look like an adult, grabbed two ears of wheat, put them in my palm, and rubbed them hard, saving my breath. My loyal wheat husk drifted away with the wind.
On the palm of your hand, it is light green and full of wheat grains, lying quietly in the sun, with a faint luster. Put it in your mouth and chew it gently. The full juice and faint fragrance instantly occupy your mouth, and then drive your heart and spleen directly, which is fascinating.
Wheat in my mouth, hand in hand with my teeth, quietly told me through "chewing strength" big or small that they are far from mature.
The wheat is finally yellow, which shows that the wheat is ripe: large tracts of wheat fields, high and low, are neat and endless, like soldiers undergoing inspection, like gifts from the earth to the sky. My hometown in Hebei, basically finished harvesting wheat in ten days, which is called "wheat maturity". Countless huge and full ears of wheat drooped in an instant, and the land of Huang Chengcheng, like a flame burning on straw, lit the eyes of farmers.
? Let's look at Shangchao Li's "Wheat is Yellow": Wheat is yellow/Wheat is really yellow/They are standing neatly in the breeze/not afraid of knives at all.
I have lived in my hometown for 17 years and have seen 17 crops of wheat. Every crop of them is wonderful, every crop is vigorous, and every crop is like what Li wrote in his poem: "Stand neatly in the breeze". "Neatly", how wonderful these four words are, and how apt it is to describe the wheat in my hometown. Neat is a magnificent sight, a gesture, a spirit and a symbol of dedication.
The meaning of this poem is many times higher than we thought. The wheat here can be a student who just walked out of the ivory tower, a beautiful teenager who has grown up, any industry, anything and anyone.
"I'm not afraid of knives at all." When the wheat is ripe, it needs harvesting to realize its own value, so I am not only not afraid, but also free to stand in the breeze. After reading these, I feel distressed, pity and admiration for these wheat standing neatly in the breeze.
Let's read Yu Xiuhua's "Wheat is Yellow":
Let's hold the lamp to see the wheat field behind the house.
Come and see the wheat when it rains heavily.
Last year's promise and noise are still in your stomach, so you need to be careful when you walk.
Lighting the flashlight, we passed through the awakened green snake, cricket and Upright.
fragrance of a flower
Look at the process of wheat yellowing before the thunder stops.
Sitting next to the wheat, a wheat sheltered us from the wind and rain.
Say, say how much you love me, such rainy nights and wheat fields that have never crossed the line.
The surviving ships landed in the dark.
We dug the bottom of the boat and drank water to keep warm.
Wheat changes overnight, and you squeeze my hand.
His uncle is still scattered in the distance, and the silly elder sister is terminally ill.
Let's beat her into a grain of wheat.
Every time she hurts, put her in our stomachs.
Will lean on the nearest place to us.
Before that, she will turn into 18 years of sadness in every lightning.
What will the dawn be like tomorrow?
Did you hear the roar of the wheat wave?
Yu Xiuhua's poems are full of tenacity, ferocity and momentum. Just like spirits, you can feel an impulse when you open the lid, which makes people look down upon and ignore it. This poem is no exception.
Her "Wheat is Yellow", the theme is love, and the brushwork is delicate: the wheat she writes is both sad and strong. In the first half of the poem, I wrote "scary" love and love promise, and wheat is the pledge of the promise. The middle part is about the sweetness and pain of love, and wheat is the witness of this sweetness and pain. The second half focuses on the ending of love, and sadness transmits strength.
"What is the dawn tomorrow? Did you hear the roar of the wheat wave? " This is the crowning touch and climax of the whole poem: no matter what night you have experienced, dawn and light will come; No matter how crazy the wind is and how sudden the rain is, it will be sunny in the end. The roar of the wheat wave is a kind of strength, an indomitable and unstoppable force.
Both poems describe the similarities of wheat and the spiritual quality of wheat from their own perspectives, fully expressing their inner feelings. The difference lies in: Yu Xiuhua pays attention to loving children, while Shangchao Li's Wheat is richer in connotation and wider in pattern, which can give people more emotion and strength; Yu Xiuhua's poems are sad and heavy, while Shangchao Li's poems are more powerful and light. Yu Xiuhua's poems use many "raw materials" such as green snakes, crickets and rain, while Shangchao Li's only uses wheat, wind and knives. ...
Standing on the vast harvest Yuan Ye and witnessing the wind blowing the wheat waves, people will be deeply moved by the gift of the earth. If it's me, it must be that the wheat in Shangchao Li is yellow.
Read it again. Good poetry is like delicious food and beautiful scenery, which makes people reluctant to go.
Wheat is yellow.
Shangchao Li
Wheat is yellow.
Wheat is really yellow.
They stood neatly in the breeze.
Not afraid of knives at all.