//wenwen.sogou/z/q774770323 The street lamps in the sky are far away, and there seem to be countless stars shining. Stars appear in the sky, as if countless street lamps were lit. I think there must be a beautiful market in the foggy sky. Some items on display in the market must be rare in the world. You see, the shallow Tianhe is definitely not very wide. I think the cow girl crossing the river can definitely ride the cow. I think they must be wandering in the street at the moment. Do not believe, please look at that meteor. Even if they walk with lanterns. Withered, my beautiful flower, I nagged, my helplessness is like a bird without wings falling from the eighteenth floor-"doing nothing" The street lamp in the sky is far away, as if there are countless stars shining. Stars appear in the sky, as if countless street lamps were lit. I think there must be a beautiful market in the foggy sky. Some items on display in the market must be rare in the world. You see, the shallow Tianhe is definitely not very wide. I think the cow girl crossing the river can definitely ride the cow. I think they must be wandering in the street at the moment. Do not believe, please look at that meteor. Even if they walk with lanterns. Qilixiangliu longs for the waves flowing to the ocean, but longs for returning to land. After 20 years of vicissitudes, our souls return every night. As soon as the breeze blows, it turns into a garden full of fragrant Bing Xin (1900- 1999), formerly known as Xie Wanying, a native of Changle, Fujian, a modern China poetess and essayist. His main works are poetry anthology Stars, Springs, Essays for Young Readers, Little Orange Lantern, etc. -Paper Boat-For Mother. In the silence and dusk, they praised each other deeply. Er Nen Green Bud said to the youth,' Develop yourself!' Pale white flowers, youth said: "give yourself a gift!" " Deep red fruit, and the young man said,' sacrifice yourself!' 30% of the flowers, now people only admire her bright and moving! However, at the beginning, her bud was soaked with tears of struggle and shed blood rain of sacrifice. All over the world, which star has no light? What kind of flower has no fragrance? When did your waves not ring in my mind? A corner flower in the wall of Spring Water (Trilogy)! When you admire yourself, the world becomes smaller. Secondly, in order to interrupt the endless gunfire, in the silent night, I grabbed the moth in my hand and threw it out of the window sadly. Three-year-olds write carefully and turn pages from time to time. Please write! Paper boat-I never give up a piece of paper for my mother, but I always keep it-I keep it, fold it into a boat and throw it into the sea. Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind, and some were wet by the waves and stuck to the bow. I still don't give up every day, always hoping that there will be a place where I want him to go. Mom, if you see a very small white boat in your dream, don't be surprised that it has no end in your dream. This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes. Qian Shan is full of water, please bring her love and sadness back. On a snowy morning _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Is to tell us to forget a person, when there is snow piled up outside the steps on the way home, the best way to remember one thing may be just a squirrel jumping between tree trunks on an irrelevant sunny and cold morning. Moonlight flies silently in the moonlight forever, and the red leaves in autumn and the snow in winter sink into the boundless night, so I sing the blooming flowers on the grassland with fish eyes, so I listen to the night and the day with prayers and raise my hand at inappropriate times. Therefore, a plant and a disease spread by moonlight were wrongly named. A singer began to hate the silence in the bright moonlight, but it disappeared. Flowers in the moonlight only bloom and don't fade. If I were a bird, I would love this land. This river is forever filled with our grief and indignation, the restless wind, and the incomparably gentle dawn coming from the forest ...-Then I died, and even my feathers rotted in the ground. Why do I often cry? Because I love this land deeply ... the topic of modern poetry suitable for primary school students to recite is motherland, my dear motherland. I am an old waterwheel worn by your river, spinning tired songs for hundreds of years; When you grope in the tunnel of history, I am a miner's lamp with black forehead; I am the withered ear of rice, the disrepair roadbed; It is a barge on the muddy beach, pulling the rope deep into your shoulder-the motherland! I'm poor and I'm sad. I am the painful hope of your forefathers, the flower that will never land between the sleeves of "flying"-the motherland! I am your brand-new ideal, just breaking away from the spider web of myth; I am the germ of your ancient lotus under the snow; I am your laughing vortex with tears hanging; I am the newly painted white starting line; What is breaking out is the crimson dawn; -the motherland! I am one billionth of you, the sum of your 9.6 million square meters; You nurtured me a scarred * * *, a considerate me, a boiling me; Then get your richness, your glory and your freedom from my flesh and blood; -Motherland, my dear motherland! (Author's pen name: Shu Ting) Dai Wangshu's Rain Lane walks alone in a long, lonely rain lane with an oil-paper umbrella. I hope to meet a girl as sad as lilac. She is lilac-like color, lilac-like fragrance, lilac-like sadness, sadness in the rain, sadness and hesitation; She wanders in this lonely rain lane, holding an oil-paper umbrella, silently sad like me, and sad and disappointed like me. She silently approached, approached and took a breath. She floated like a dream, dreamlike, sad and confused. Like a lilac field in a dream, this girl floats by me; She walked away silently, far away, towards the crumbling fence and through the rainy lane. In the elegy of rain, her color faded, her fragrance dispersed, and even her sighing eyes were lilac-like melancholy. Holding an oil-paper umbrella, I wandered alone in a long, lonely rain lane, hoping to float past a girl with a lilac knot.