Long years, full of affection, my feelings for the railway are like silver rails stretching into the distance, which makes people deeply moved.
I have formed a deep affection with the railway since I was a child.
I love the depth of the railway, the fast trains, the bustling stations, the sweet broadcasts of the announcers in the stations and trains, the enthusiastic railway police, the people who sleep beside the railway, the stones and monuments, and everything about the railway. I have an indissoluble bond with the railway.
In my fond memories, I can't remember how many times I have been on the train, how many times I have enjoyed the railway that the train roared by, and I haven't heard enough moving music from the long rumbling Mercedes-Benz, and I haven't seen enough dragons drifting away from far and near. I entered the sweetness of that dream with the rhythm of the train several times. Looking forward to it several times, I miss the tracks, the trains and the railway stations.
Every sleeper, every stone, every rail, every road monument, every train and every station seems to be telling my sweet memories and sincere attachment to the railway.
When I was a child, my grandmother carried me to Yongdingmen Railway Station, boarded the long Qinglong, listened to the long sound of the train, watched the white air coming from the front of the train, and arrived at Handan Railway Station with the tinkling sound, and arrived at Yongnian County, Hebei Province, where she lived for several years. Three railway poems, three railway poems. I remember that time when I went back to Beijing, my grandmother hugged me and saw me off with my cousin who worked in Beijing, and put me on the train carriage bound for Beijing. When the train started slowly, I suddenly realized that I was leaving Grandma and Handan, and immediately I couldn't stop crying and shouting, "Grandma, I can't go to Beijing, I can't live without you, and I can't live without you forever." In my cries, grandma was reluctant to leave. The train started gradually and the station moved slowly to the back. I vaguely remember grandma walking on tiptoe on the train outside the window, waving at me and wiping her tears with her hands until her amiable and lovely familiar figure gradually disappeared into the dim night. That scene has always appeared in front of my eyes.