Yu Guangzhong
In childhood
Homesickness is a small stamp.
I'm at this end
Mom is over there.
When I grow up
Homesickness is a narrow ticket.
I'm at this end
The bride is over there.
We'll talk about it later.
Homesickness is a low grave.
I am outside
Mom's inside.
But now
Homesickness is a shallow strait.
I'm at this end
The mainland is over there
homesickness
Xi Murong
The song of my hometown is a flute in Qingyuan.
It always rings with the moon at night.
The face of my hometown is a vague disappointment.
Like waves in the fog
After parting
Homesickness is a tree without rings.
Never grow old.
Wild Goose River-My Nanny
Author: Ai Qing
Dayanhe is my nanny.
Her name is the name of the village where she was born
She is a child bride,
Dayanhe is my nanny.
I am the son of the landlord;
I also grew up eating milk from Dayan River.
Son of Dayanhe.
Dayan and I raised a family by raising me.
I grew up on your milk,
Dayanhe, my nanny.
Along the river, I saw snow today, which reminds me of you:
Your grave is covered with snow,
Your closed former residence, the dead Wafi on the roof,
The ten-square-foot garden you pawned,
The mossy stone chair in front of your door,
Along the 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 the charcoal ash off your apron,
When you taste the cooked rice,
After you put the black sauce bowl on the black table,
After you mended your son's clothes cut by thorns on the hillside,
When you have bandaged the child's hand cut by the firewood knife,
After you strangled the lice on your husband's shirt one by one,
After you picked up your first egg today,
You hold me in your arms with your big palm and touch me.
I am the landlord's son,
After I ate all your milk in Dayan River,
I was taken home by my parents.
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 gold pattern on my parents' bed,
I looked blankly at the plaque on the eaves that I didn't know, "Family Fun".
I touched the silk and shell buttons of my new dress.
I looked at my mother's strange sister,
I sat on a kang stool with a brazier painted on it.
I ate milled rice three times,
However, I am so embarrassed! Because I
I became a new guest in my parents' house.
Dayan River, for living,
After she used up all the lotion,
She began to work with her arms hugging me;
She washed our clothes with a smile.
With a smile on her face, she went to the frozen pond near the village with a vegetable basket.
She smiled and cut the radish with ice.
With a smile on her face, she took out the spent grains eaten by pigs with her hands.
She smiled and fanned the fire in the saucepan.
Smiling, she came to the square with a dustpan.
Sun those soybeans and wheat,
Dayan River, for living,
After she used up all the lotion,
She just holds my arm and works.
Wild goose river, deeply in love with her baby;
During the Chinese New Year, I was busy cutting him the candy of that winter rice.
For him, he often goes to his home near her village quietly.
For him, go up to her and call "Mom".
Dayan River painted his bright red and green Guan Yunchang.
Stick it on the wall next to the stove,
Dayanhe will boast and praise his breasts to his neighbors;
Dayan and had a dream that can't be told:
In the dream, she ate her child's wedding wine,
Sitting in the magnificent celebration hall,
Her beautiful daughter-in-law affectionately calls her "mother-in-law"
…………
Dayanhe, love her baby!
Dayan and died before her dream 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.
Five sons, all crying sadly,
When she died, she whispered the name of her child.
Dayanhe, dead,
When she died, her breasts were not with her.
Dayanhe, tears streaming down her face!
With the bullying of human life for more than forty years,
The misery of countless slaves,
With a four-dollar coffin and some straws,
There are only a few feet of land to bury the coffin,
With the ashes of a handful of paper money,
Wild goose river, she went away in tears.
This is big research and don't know:
Her drunken husband died,
The eldest son became a bandit,
The second one died in the smoke of gunfire,
Third, fourth and fifth times
And I, I'm writing a spell for this unfair world.
When I returned to my native land after a long wandering,
On the hillside, in the fields,
When the two brothers met, they were closer than they were six or seven years ago!
This, this is for you, quietly sleeping Dayan River.
What you don't know!
Dayanhe, your baby is in prison today.
Write a hymn for you,
Give you the purple soul under the loess,
Reach out to you and hug my hand,
Let you kiss my lips,
What is presented to you is a muddy and gentle face.
It's for you, because you lifted my breasts,
To your sons, my brothers,
To everything on earth,
My big weir nanny and their son,
Dedicated to Da Yanhe who loves me as his own son.
Dayanhe, I grew up eating your milk.
Your son
I respect you.
love you
Kuangtu
A little cold light,
From the broken study.
How many years?
Never forget,
That hometown,
This village.
No matter when,
In the past,
Land shortage.
Stay with me forever:
Write about Kyushu,
Write in all directions.
One night,
Once wrote a lot of poems,
Fill in the lyrics.
The soul is flying,
Exquisite.
How many medals,
I still cherish it.
Today, under the light,
Be excluded,
Gone,
Young lang.
A pot of wine,
Indulge in,
Roadside.
The most desolate,
Alone,
Go to heaven,
Speak your mind.
May our generation:
Tomorrow,
More talented.
Look at the sky,
Look at lofty sentiments:
Still free.
Where the iron pen is waved,
Through storms and waves,
Farewell.
Small mountain village
Small mountain village,
Chickens and dogs listen to each other.
Get dressed,
Drive Chai Men.
Welcome guests,
Invite old friends.
Among flowers and birds,
Soak in the spring breeze,
Have a good time.
Recite ancient poems,
Minguet,
Play the clavichord.
Sitting by the window,
Enjoy that song,
Blue sky and white clouds.
The mountains and rivers are clear,
Pine forest on the hillside.
No matter far or near,
There are sheep.
Although in the challenge,
No meritorious military service.
At the foot of Shu Mountain,
Be a civilian.
A game of chess,
A cup of tea,
In ancient and modern times,
Say Qin Shihuang.
Accompanied by singing,
Don't worry,
Don't worry about poverty.
How much affection?
How much hate?
Do not keep it.
The world is rich and colorful,
Why,
Hard to chase?
China has beautiful landscapes,
What's not fascinating?
This feeling is the purest.
Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.
And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sign.
The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover.
It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal.
Once, we dreamed that everyone was a stranger.
When we wake up, we know that we love each other.
"What's your language, Hai?"
"This is an eternal question."
"What's your answer, sky?"
"It's eternal silence."
Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes love to you.
The mystery of creation is like the darkness of night-it is great. But the illusion of knowledge is like morning.
Heavy fog.