Poetry praising the construction of new countryside

This is another spring breeze, and the policy is beautiful. Qi Xin builds a new countryside, full of flowers and gongs and drums. This topic is too biased. Let's make do with a limerick. Every village is paved with concrete pavement, and the telephone at home keeps ringing. Color TV sets and mobile phones are commonplace, and computers are more useful. Wild Goose River-My Nanny Author: Ai Qing Wild Goose River is my nanny. Her name is the name of the village where she was born She is a child bride, Dayanhe, my nanny. I am the son of the landlord; He is also the son of Dayan River, and grew up eating Dayan River's milk. Dayanhe raised me in her family. I was raised by your milk. Dayanhe, my nanny. Dayan River, I saw the snow today, which reminds me of you: your grassy grave under the pressure of snow, the dead Wafi under the eaves of your closed former residence, your garden pawned by a square foot, the mossy stone chair in front of your door, Dayan River, I saw the snow today, which reminds me of you. You hold me in your arms with your big palm and touch me; After you set up the stove, after you took off the charcoal ash from your apron, after you tasted the rice and cooked it, after you put the black sauce bowl on the black table, after you mended the clothes cut by thorns on the hillside of your sons, after you wrapped the hands of the children cut by wooden knives, after you strangled the lice on their shirts one by one, after you picked up the first egg today. I am the landlord's son. After I finished eating all the milk in Dayan River, my parents took me home. Ah, Dayanhe, why are you crying? I'm a new guest at my parents' house! I touched the furniture carved with red paint. I touched the golden pattern on my parents' bed. I just looked at the plaque I didn't recognize on the eaves. I touched the silk and shell buttons of the newly changed clothes. I looked at my unfamiliar sister in my mother's arms. I sat on a painted kang stool with a brazier. I ate three times of ground rice. I was so embarrassed. Because of me, I became a new guest at my parents' house. Dayanhe, in order to make a living, after she used up the lotion, she began to work with the arm that hugged me; She smiled and washed our clothes. She took the basket to the frozen pond on the edge of the village. With a smile on her face, she cut radish with ice chips. She took out the wheat grain eaten by the pig by hand. She smiled and fanned the fire in the saucepan. With a smile on her back, she went to the square to dry those soybeans and wheat. Dayan River, for life, Dayan River, deeply loves her baby; On New Year's Day, for him, I was busy cutting the sugar of winter rice. For him, I often go to her home near her village quietly. For him, I went to her and called "Mom", Dayan River, and posted his red and green Guan Yunchang on the wall next to the stove. Dayanhe will boast and praise her treasures to her neighbors. Dayanhe once had a dream that she couldn't tell anyone: in the dream, she was eating the baby's wedding wine and sitting in the magnificent ceremony hall. The beautiful daughter-in-law affectionately called her "mother-in-law" .......................................................................................................... Dayanhe and died before she woke up. When she died, her breasts were not with her. When she died, her husband, who usually beat and scolded her, also shed tears for her. All five sons cried sadly. When she died, she whispered the name on her chest, Dayanhe, who was already dead. When she died, her breasts were not with her. Dayanhe, tears streaming down her face! With the bullying of more than 40 years' lives, with the misery of countless slaves, with a four-dollar coffin and several bundles of straw, with a few feet of land for burying the coffin, and the ashes of paper money in one hand, she left with tears in her eyes. This is what Dayan doesn't know: her drunken husband died, her eldest son became a bandit, the second one died in the smoke of gunfire, and there were the third, fourth and fifth ones, and I, I am writing a spell to this unfair world. When I returned to my hometown after a long wandering, my brothers met on the hillside and in the fields. I was closer than I was six or seven years ago! This, this is for you, sleeping quietly and things you don't know! Dayanhe, today your baby is in prison, writing a hymn to you, giving you a purple soul under the loess, giving you a hand to hug me, giving you a kiss on my lips, giving you a muddy and gentle face, giving you my * * *, giving you your sons, my brothers, giving everything on earth, and my Dayan. Dayanhe, I grew up eating your milk. Your son, I respect and love you.