There is no eternal night in the world, and there is no eternal winter in the world.

"Hometown Month"

Written by Wang Weiyao

When I was young

I have always been with you

Hometown The moon

The moonlight at that time was very white and bright

The sky was so empty

The wheat field was covered with thick moonlight

< p> There is no strongest wine

There is no white horse to ride on

All dreams

When you grow up, you can travel as far as you like

< p> People from all over the world

Sing whatever you want

I didn’t understand until one day when my beard turned white

The most beautiful thing The Moon

In Hometown

"The Road to Hometown"

Written by Wang Weiyao

That winding road The winding road

The gray color of cement glows in the moonlight

Finally, it is no longer muddy on rainy days

The endless mountain peaks

Also in the headlights

In the mist

A little squirrel behaved

squatting on the roadside

It knows this road

I have walked for many years

The poplar forest is very close to home

Turning the corner

I can still see the lights under the eaves in the dark night

They are so bright and lonely

"Wine"

Written by Wang Weiyao

At the door of my hometown

The grapes planted three years ago

are full of fruit

My mother used them to make wine

Delicious sweet wine

Take a sip when you miss your home

Take a sip when you miss home

Take a sip when you miss home

Every bite is full of flavor

It is nostalgia and concern

It is also a kind of attachment

I hope this grapevine even more

< p> Grows endlessly

And mother can never-ending

Brew the wine of longing

Year after year

< p> "Village Wheat Fields and Poetry"

Text/Wang Weiyao

In the distance

There are villages and wheat fields

When the sun rises< /p>

There are many woodcutters gathering firewood on the hillside

There are also young people carrying baskets in the wild fields

Looking for pigweed

That The distance of time

There is no poetry in the curling smoke

The moon seems to be rarely covered

The wheat fields in summer

A patch of green

p>

Wheat fields in autumn

Yellow waves in waves

Then

hidden by the wheat straws of the autumn harvest

Hide The laughter of cats

In the distance now

There are still villages, wheat fields and poetry

It’s just that

there is less smoke and

p>

The Woodcutter and the Boy Who Hunted Pigweed

I picked a kapok flower and gave it to you, but it fell on the road to spring

There are always times in this world Someone is clumsily loving you and wants to give you all the tenderness

From now on, facing the flowers and the scenery, I will let the wind and the moon fall into my poetry. When the spring breeze blows, I hope all the good things will come as promised

< p> Wednesday | The noise of all living beings gathers together, and everything is silent to listen, and finally know that the moon is still the brightness of hometown

Picture | (Beautiful picture) | Godzilla is actually very low-key (via Duitang thanks for the beautiful picture American words invaded and deleted)