1. The groves in the city turned green. The humble life of ants and flying insects in my small forest came under the soil with spring. I heard the sound of earthworms crawling and knocked down the closed door of the soil with their soft heads. On the grass in the grove, I saw a group of goats waving their long beards and bleating a black goat, which shocked my youth and soul. Walking towards me leisurely, there are happy tears on my face. Pushing open the door of spring, I hear birds chirping in the city. A few spring birds are afraid to enter the city, but they are cheering outside the school gate. They are as simple as farmers in rural areas, which gives me a sense of closeness. They are my friends, and they are like relatives I met by chance. They are looking for unknown bugs and making friendly sounds to their peers outside school. I fell in love with the sound of birds. In the contention of birds, I pushed open the door of spring. This spring, this spring, my heart is in a mess. I think of some tombstones for a while and my childhood for a while. This spring, my heart is in a mess. Spring poetry has been full of spring poetry. My poems are spring leaves and crowns. What else can I do this spring? Who else can I embrace spring and time with? The rain passed through my chest. A voice dripped from a high place, like Rapunzel's shawl. The black waterfall gripped the time tightly, so I became a dizzy soul in the endless rain curtain. I don't know who the real irresistible desire is. Raindrops are flying in the air and slowly floating in the air. The accumulated strength seeped into my broad chest quietly from the simple clouds, so the waves in my chest stirred ripples and beat the emotional shore reef. Waves are higher than waves. Suction and a drop of rain moisten each other, so a drop of rain goes deep into my heart and mixes with my thoughts, then washes everything through the narrow space in my heart, and a ray of sunshine takes the opportunity to travel through time to reach my sunny sky. On February 23, 2004, "A Snow in Spring" boarded the train for spring, with the sharp sword of the season, mercilessly scraping off the restless buds. Bud let the chapped hands stretch out for a winter, holding the banner of hunting to chase a snow in spring. As long as you set foot on the equator in spring, a fierce snow is precious. Chun Xue's dialogue flows freely in six directions, giving instructions and sending out wet messages. In fact, spring has nothing to do with a snow, but the sudden cold in late spring will hold everyone's love. At first, the contact between the sky and the earth was intense, but it was purely along the slope of the season. Head-on is waiting for the last snow and treetops outside the window. Sighs and fog drops turn into yearning for spring. A bud quietly arched out of the frozen soil, tapped on the door of the earth and disappeared with a squeak. Enjoy the love behind the cracked trunk. In spring, light kites in the suburbs will drive the boat all the way to the territory. The road is still muddy. Occasionally, pedestrians turn up their collars to shut out the cold, and the sun shines brightly in spring. On February 5, 2004, "Go for an outing" and Kite made an appointment to fly to the top of the suburb together at the weekend, hugging their son's joy in a winter and encouraging them to fly far away. A floating leaf swings with my son. I lay on my wife and kissed the wet Achnatherum splendens. I was in a bad mood all afternoon. I really want to take out my son's homework in his schoolbag and help him sweep it. Reminiscent of March 9, 2004, an old buffalo chewed a lawn full of wild flowers in a building, and then "Cleisthenes" its hooves and sprayed beads like a shepherd boy. Wake up the ears of spring by the river. Next to it are seedlings that grow wildly in spring and leaves on the ridge of the field. Imagine, not long ago, this old buffalo was muttering, pushing the pace of the season. An empty philosopher, holding hands, made various gestures, turned the warm colors in the earth through the cold eyes of the season, and tilted the cold classical figure heavily. On March 9, 2004, the plowshare and the old farmer who was dragged by the mud waves in Who Hunted the Feathers of Spring were carrying the last feather. After experiencing abundant vitality, they hid under the wings of heavy spring twilight, and a serene and elegant serenade came in the wind, gently licking the sails sailing in the sea of four seasons. Who has gained love? Fall out of favor again under the eaves of love, turn your back on the once romantic passion, and quietly swim a drop of clear tears in the space of steaming clouds in spring. Vilen saw the dying light bathed in clouds and smoke, and the endless journey of the sea and sky to control beautiful feathers could not be crossed by the smoke lock. Then he raised his pious prayer flags and left with a wordless promise.
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