Author: Lan Jian is fluttering
A field full of rape flowers is
flat, stretching
Childhood songs
Singing on the back of cattle along the path
Smoke from kitchen chimneys
Dancing and frolicking on the blue tiles in the evening
Whose mulberry picking girl
Roll up gauze sleeves
Face to face. White
birds
in the clothes of pilgrimage to youth
in the old wooden house
a silent calendar
hands in the air
looking up at the sky
praying for a surprising declaration of life
on the ancient windowsill
a small white jasmine
gently fragrant each one
.
I have the direction I yearn for-
Floating, floating, floating-
The whole sky is my direction.
Even if the cliff is cold and lonely,
Even if the horizon is lonely,
I'm not afraid of the lonely rain lane-
melancholy, melancholy, melancholy,-
Little darling, you are my direction!
Let the genie light an orange-red lamp,
Your wild deer-like eyes twinkle,
And the fragrance of vermilion and plum-
Youran, Youran, Youran,-
Oh, then I will give up all my freedom and dreams!
Just gently hold your lightness,
Gently penetrate into the palm of your hand, the eyebrows and the whole soul!
A spring bay-
Wandering, Wandering, Wandering, -
Wandering in your gentle heart, jiaozi, mother
Author: Mifu
When he left home for a long trip, jiaozi was wrapped on the kang
Mom rubbed his face with tears and Dad rubbed his face with silence
The smell of jiaozi didn't
rub into a hundred kinds of worries
on weekdays.
The dumplings on the street are full of homesickness.
Order a plate of home-cooked jiaozi.
Drink a pot of aged wine.
Keep a round of the fifteenth moon.
You will feel at home.