Modern Poetry of Rural Life 1 Rural Life
Me, a snail.
Climb out of the house
Ah! Spring is really beautiful.
Hello! Maitian brothers
Hello! Miss rape flower
Hello! Silly bird singing the morning song
Hmm! I am in a good mood today.
Hormone night
It decomposes in the body very early and gives off an odor.
Mass, all the way to Chun Qing.
God bless (you)
Thank you for your hospitality on Saturday
Thanks for sunshine and freedom.
I see the sky and the earth.
Beautiful world.
Spread out before my eyes
Modern Poetry of Rural Life II: New Countryside
A ray of bright sunshine
Illuminate the distant hometown
A century-old tree near the village
Tell about the changes in history
This is a beautiful village.
People are running towards a well-off society.
Old trees witness the vision of development.
The old tree witnessed people's dreams.
Nowadays farmers are getting richer and richer.
Today's farmers all have ambitions.
Learn knowledge and culture
Building a new countryside is no longer a dream.
Farmers are no longer satisfied with rural life.
Marat safin came to town to do business.
Township enterprises have mushroomed.
On the land of China.
Emit bright light.
Agriculture is developing.
The countryside is changing.
Farmers are getting rich.
Thanks to socialism.
Thanks for the party.
Create a Chinese dream
Farmers are happy in their hearts.
China of dreams
Heaven is everywhere.
Modern Poetry of Country Life Three Old Trees
The old tree hugs the house as a mother hugs a child.
The old tree dragged the dawn to the window of the old house with the damaged palm.
Sunshine, moonlight and starlight.
In summer, the old tree always coughs in the fire.
Cough out a shady side, under the old house, in front of the window and in the house.
After a long time, the old tree is too old to look like.
The cracked bark is engraved with the scars of the years.
Dry branches, fiddling with the village eyelashes.
The love between the old house and the tree is getting older and older.
There is no confession, just because of the long-cherished wish of past lives and the companionship of this life.
Maybe everything will be my childhood swing.
This old tree is too old to move.
But still majestic, upright, always facing the sun.
Green dream connection
In the east and the west
Modern Poetry of Rural Life 4 Flowers in the Wind
Flowers in the wind are simple and clear.
Blooming in fields and mountains.
Flowers in the wind are elegant and fragrant.
The crystal dew lies on the petals, like breast-feeding milk in spring.
Flowers in the wind, confident but not unassuming.
White stamen, stuck to the heart of the flower.
Like the roots of iron, it will never fall in the wind.
Flowers in the wind always belong to the wind.
The wind blows for a while and a flower blooms.
Modern Poetry of Country Life 5 Old Wells
I threw a gravel at the old well.
The moment the stone collided with the well water, the sound of nature lingered in my ears.
Crisp and ding-dong
People carrying water are in an endless stream.
Join together
Well water reaches thousands of households, and it is the child of the old well.
Singing and dancing in the water tank, exultation
The old well gathers the essence of the sun and the moon and absorbs the aura of heaven and earth.
The old well has become the breast of the earth, feeding the villages that are still in infancy.
The old well dried up, dried up to the depths, and shed the last tear.
Dry breasts
Will become a hard grave.
Modern Poetry of Country Life 6 Mother's Heart
Mother's worries are pinned on a piece of cotton cloth.
A piece of cotton cloth is cut into window grilles and pasted on the window of life.
Old buckets and old mirrors
Always pestering my mother at dawn
The wind of years pushes mother to get old.
A mother's heart is a palm full of calluses.
In the candlelight, mother took out the letter at the bottom of the box.
Grandma's, dad's, mine.
Chinese characters lie in mom's mind, love love love.
Mother's heart, maybe I will never understand.
But mother and son are connected, and I will always be the most beautiful concern in my mother's heart.
Modern Poetry of Country Life 7 Wandering in the Country
In a previous life, I was a handful of loess.
In this life, I have evolved into an adult.
I will always belong to my hometown. Mountains and rivers, birds and fish are all witnesses.
I came in July, when the wheat was just right and the rice was fragrant.
At that time, my dusty feet
Tread through every corner of the village
The grass is green, catching butterflies against the wind.
I belong to this village.
Chop bamboo, play flute and play piano.
I am a vagrant in the country.
Looking for roots, walking in a different place, but still can't get out of my hometown.