The first volume "Harvest Life"
I fell in love with my mother's face from the day I was born.
one
I stared at the sunset on the slope.
In the twilight, hippos carry the moon.
A new star
It is full of my sadness.
My thoughts are in ink.
Swim loudly
My pen spent the summer on manuscript paper.
Missing is all over my forehead.
Turn the muddy night around
Mother's messy hair
In the drizzle
In the river in my hometown.
I think of my mother's beauty and gentleness.
I think of my mother's smile.
Acacia climbed up my cheek.
I am everyone in the moonlight.
A cheerful river
My dream is on the riverbed of my hometown.
Stay in the hot land together
Mother is in the eyes of rice and wheat
Full of traces of time.
I stare at the years, it is like a sickle.
Waiting for the autumn harvest
I am swaying in the sweet fruit.
My autumn
It belongs to the season of poetry.
two
Every memory of my hometown
Live in my mind
A flock of sparrows flew in.
All the poems related to dreams.
I'm a kid with a slingshot
I suddenly burst into tears.
My eyes
Fly along the rolling mountains
The color overlooking the human dream.
The swallow whispered to me kindly.
I playfully hung upside down on the branch.
From fiddling with the secrets of my palm prints
Those wild vegetables, stones and rabbits
I hold the torch of spring.
Through the night
With the wings of my poetry
Standing on a barren hill
The eagle swooped by.
Ripe grain
I sing at dawn in autumn.
I am in a happy country.
Selflessly sow the longing and passion of childhood.
Wheat field where the soul lives
The language of poetry is silent wheat.
Now, I am calm.
Lying in the eyes of fireflies
My poem
Take me to heaven.
I found it by accident.
A pair of waterfowl wings
Draw a picture of yourself.
blue sky
Walking under willow leaves in May
Harvest moist eyes.
My mind
In a crazy desire
I am an affectionate person.
The story of the river
I saw my father writhing in pain.
That starry night
Father lost the dam.
three
Now, I put my father's smile
And the river that has been silent.
Into my dream of fire.
Turn yellow November
Burning moldy poetry
I saw my mother's thin back.
Tender feelings for father.
Her love for her father.
Buried in the mountains of loyalty
I don't know how to comfort.
I tried to turn the crazy river
Enact laws
A stone engraved with poetry.
Stop fresh body in rainy season.
I walked into the language and into the river.
I am on the shore of the high tide.
Draw a pair of angry eyes
Mother crawled with difficulty.
In the pain of tearing
The years passed slowly on her mottled forehead.
Wet rainy season
Her hard bones and muscles.
Suffer from rheumatism.
I tried to put all the poems
Into distilled medicinal liquor.
All spilled on the wheat fields in May.
Let the flame grow wildly in the wheat field
Let the language be in the mother's blood vessels.
Run fast
Let poetry relieve pain.
four
Because mother can't walk upright.
I lost my memory overnight.
I am like a scalper with a big mouth.
Talking about the fate of grass.
I became a sleepy pig.
Eating day and night.
Lots of food and ideas.
My mother filled my life with tears.
It was planted in my hometown of vilen.
Silent century
Resurrection in my soul
I have always been that stubborn person.
On the land of breathing
I have a fresh breath.
I planted the seeds of poetry in Yuan Ye.
I am looking forward to it.
When poetry grows into a seedling,
A sickly mother
There is food for the winter.
I try to use the words of my soul
Bury oneself
In fact, I have long been captured by poetry.
With feelings "
Mothers all over the world have only one face.
It was a kind smile.
-inscription
one
Ginkgo biloba in May woke me up.
Magnolia is not in full bloom yet
The bees began to sing.
I am a bee!
I have collected my whole life's emotions.
Rapids through the sun and waterfalls
I am a singing stone.
Wash his wings in the mountain stream
Wash away all the hardships and pains of running around.
Mother, your generous shoulders
This is the love that I snuggle up to all my life.
I shed tears in a warm little black bowl.
Many times, I look out from a distance.
I always turn it upside down day and night.
It is you who knock on the mountain window of the morning glow with the spring breeze.
Give me a touch of purple, twig.
Give me the music of dawn
Give me an eternal dream
I love you. Dear mother
I walk along your giant arm.
Climb up the mountain and I'll pick snow lotus for you.
And made into medicinal liquor.
Wash away your rheumatism for years.
My dear mother, farewell again and again.
Farewell to the soul station again and again,
Here you are, my dear mother.
I wrote down a poem.
That mountain road is an endless road for me!
The mountain road is full of spring breeze rewards.
You gave the children a brand-new tomorrow.
You polish all the days into hemp rope.
Give children a solid future.
I like drizzle and spring breeze.
It is your tireless heart!
Holding wet chicken feet
Move your eyes to emptiness and dusk.
I quietly disappeared into the mountains.
The soul will have a home and peace.
The rugged road to the house in the moonlight!
At night, my longing eyes,
Weave the dream of acacia into a thick apron
The stars put their minds on their bodies.
The moon and the stars are all your tenderness.
two
Every dream of mine wakes up in the morning.
I'll never find my true self.
I always call again and again in my dreams.
I'm trying to find your back.
Light blue mountain fog
Just like the past time in my mind.
Mom, my dear mom.
You gave me spring and let me go through the four seasons.
Walking through rugged mountains, mountain dreams
My heart begins with your kindness.
Sowing in spring is hope
I'm the little fish you fed!
Play in the stream of the mountain stream
The intersection of our emotions again and again.
Our hearts kiss again and again.
Last night, I cried like fire in my dream.
The kerosene lamp lit my memory.
My love for you, my mother.
In the small pocket you mended.
I only have Sauvignon Blanc, which goes over mountains and mountains every night.
Floating on your smiling face
All the pictures are warm.
A tear of mine broke the stars.
The transparent sky was cut by a piece of glass.
I went back to my original memory.
The green willows in front of the house are whispering.
I love you, dear mother.
I am like a shrimp nestled in the grass.
In May, clouds enter the water and water plants emerge.
Two willows are swaying in the mountains.
The older one is me, and the younger one is me.
When I leave you, in the afternoon.
I am a lost butterfly.
I can't find the direction of the stream.
I am a lost white cloud.
Through the wind, I am slim and strong in the mountains.
I always like to get ahead of you and grab bamboo baskets with you.
I run and sing in mung beans.
Count your sweat carefully.
Those irretrievable favors
I must use a simple style.
Looking for you along the mountain road of memory
Every sleepless night
Run to the black mountain soil and go up the mountain root.
Every night, thoughts ferment in pebbles.
My passion is the eruption of lava.
Translated into Wan Shanhong.
In the rain, I listen to the growth of everything.
I looked down and felt your warmth and enthusiasm.
Feel the call and echo of the mountains
And you, my dear mother.
Your hands have gathered time to sharpen.
Why are you crying in the bright moonlight?
What's the unspeakable pain?
Now, the only thing I can do is
Make all the poems into a plaster.
But I can never get rid of your lovesickness!
I will plant poems on the silent mountain.
Among those golden mulberry leaves
I love you, my dear mother.
You comb like a silkworm.
In the pupation season, I smelled mulberry.
I really want to be that ordinary mulberry tree.
Let you pick and touch you at will.
four
I remember countless dawns or dusk.
I am always used to running.
Later, I tried to use it.
A tearful look.
In your shadow, read your kindness.
Now, I like blue April.
Write it in your white hair and wrinkles
My dream falls on the mountain in spring.
There is a saying that it should be related to mountains and flying.
You said, you have to think like grass.
It is planted in Shan Ye, where the growth is promising.
I used to walk blankly in the strong wind.
Lost a beautiful spring
I tried to find it in my dream.
Looking for your soft figure like a mountain
I was in your expectant eyes.
Be born and grow up slowly.
In the days to come, in the lingering time.
Days have lengthened the plot of your warmth and smile.
I tried to put the tears of those poems
Buried in the deep forests of my hometown.
Listen to the sound of mountain flowers
Singing at night
I am your mountain flower!
I firmly have poems and tears.
It is pregnant with a sweet smell.
In many beautiful seasons
Your tears are flying in the sky
I often dream.
Write down all the poems about you.
More often, I read you under the lamp.
Fly carefully again, and grow a poem of the soul.
five
I went back to the dreams of primary school students again and again.
There are lines of my soul and stone.
So I tried to use a brush.
Colour the sun green.
Colour the stone the color of sunrise, too.
To fly, to realize one wish after another.
Today, I still carry those childhood dreams with me.
I swam in the shallow water downstream.
I stand in the gentleness of the dawn.
I shook off all the dust easily.
Stars marked with the words miss.
Yes, I was very tired before.
Out of the season of sweating
I am the little goat you love!
In those breathless evenings, I left the shadow of my childhood.
I can never escape the encirclement and suppression of acacia.
Dear mom, I love you.
I will always be your child.
I always need the touch of your palm.
Dear mom, I love you.
Just like a stream's affection for a mountain.
I hug you warmly and tightly.
Selflessly cherish the warmth of spring.
I am a wild goose flying south.
The desire to be as fresh as cream.
It's a warm afternoon.
In this way, I broke into the house.
In the noisy canyon
I lost my last memory.
I let the drowning poem
Struggle out of the waterfall
I'm alone, looking for it with an hour hand.
All the flying skies
Extend along the mountain range
I sometimes become a cloud.
It's the falling wind.
six
Time has bound the past that I don't want to talk about.
My hometown is always at my feet.
An eagle flew defiantly over the top of the mountain.
That gesture reminds me of it.
Childhood photos
Your big feet.
Your hard palm.
In the morning by the river.
I sing at your feet.
Facing those silent scenery
I finally cried like a child again.
I try to treat poetry as a spring dream.
I still remember the red flag flying in the school.
Sitting in that leaky classroom.
Listen to your patient explanation.
The equation of life
Geometry is on the blackboard.
There is a secret to fate.
You've been working hard all your life.
Covering the knowledge and time of the mountains with the body.
My memory is quiet.
Generated in dreams and mountains
In the dry wind
Raindrops falling
I had a crazy time in the moonlight.
Belong to your last pro-string
I am in the mild sunshine in spring.
I still remember that winter.
Leave innocent footprints in the snow
I deliberately put your name
Write it on an old photo.
You said, I am your sun.
I use the paint of time to harmonize the colors of dreams.
How I want to turn my desire into a paper boat.
Let the stream faithfully record
Time flows through the mountains of childhood.
I love you, my dear mother.
I love you, the smell of mountains, air and water.
In my youth, you designed it carefully for me.
Every second, every minute of my life.
On many bright red days
With the poetry and enthusiasm of my stream
Write poetry on your wrinkled forehead.
seven
June is the season when flowers bloom.
The gentle light rain soaked the memory of the mountain.
I can't stop thinking.
This is a sleepless night.
Blue sky nurtures
The mountains are endless.
The mountain makes an intimate sound.
Wandering in the sky
My mind wandered for a long time.
I am looking forward to it.
Turned into a blue Wang Yang.
At dawn a few centuries later.
I found the element of freedom.
The bitter sea water reminds me of it.
Emotion and the Taste of Poetry
Those sailboats in the sun
In the salty sea breeze
Raise the sail of life.
Let the blue dream accompany the sound of the waves.
Floating in the harbor of missing.
I am at dusk and dawn
Seeing your lonely and strong figure
On a quiet mountain
I hug you, my dear mother.
Your tenacious life
Into my living body
Grow solid annual rings
I walked into the mountains again and again.
Dancing in the mountains with the winter sunshine.
I sing nursery rhymes.
Trying to turn the beautiful spring in the south
Put it on stationery and send it to you.
You'd better bind your thoughts into autumn firewood.
You can stack them at will.
Narrow doors and windows in winter
eight
Before the full arrival of summer
It's you, my dear mother.
Mend the sky of my poetry
What I have is your freedom.
The last line in my dream
Since the rainy season
When moldy poems leave me.
Because my mood is locked.
I died in long thoughts.
I love you, my dear mother.
You gave me a burning look.
Wake up the mountain club that silenced the whole of Shan Ye.
I stubbornly put my wet wish
Dig up the home of the mountain
A determined and kind mother.
You are the one who fills my dream sky.
You gave birth in pain.
My thirst for calcium deficiency
In the ancient and mysterious mountains
These are my sticky eyes
I hold high the mountain of life.
Supporting human life and thoughts.
I stand at the end of the world.
Singing the posture of the mountain
In July, I walked out of the mountain with your singing.
My soul comes into your memory again and again.
Paper boat ice core
I never refuse to throw away a piece of paper,
Save it forever.-Save it,
Folding into a very small boat,
Throw it into the boat, throw it into the sea.
Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind,
Some are wet by the waves and stick to the bow.
I am still not discouraged, folding every day,
I always hope that a person can only flow where I want him to go.
Mom, if you see a small white boat in your dream,
Don't dream in surprise for no reason.
This was folded by your beloved daughter in tears.
Wan Shui Qian Shan begged him to take her love and sorrow home.
Stars (33)
Mom!
Put aside your troubles,
Let me fall into your arms,
Only you are the destination of my soul.
( 102)
Little flower,
I want to look up, too,
Thanks for the love of spring-
However, deep goodwill,
This finally silenced her.
Mom!
Were you that spring?
( 159)
Mom!
The wind and rain in the sky are coming,
The bird hides in its nest;
The storm in my heart is coming,
I only hide in your arms.
Ah, Shu Ting's mother.
Your pale fingertips touch my temple.
I can't help acting like a child.
Hold on to your skirt
Ah, mom.
In order to keep your fading figure
Although the morning light has cut the dream into smoke.
I still dare not open my eyes for a long time.
I still cherish that bright red scarf.
Afraid that cleaning will make it
Lose your unique warmth
Ah, mom.
Isn't the running water of the years just as ruthless?
I'm afraid the memory will fade, too.
How dare I open its screen easily?
I cried to you for a thorn.
Now I'm wearing a Jing Guan, and I dare not.
I dare not moan.
Ah, mom.
I often look up at your photos sadly.
Even if the call can penetrate the loess
How dare I disturb your sleep?
I dare not show the sacrifice of love like this.
Although I have written many songs.
For flowers, for the sea, for the dawn.
Ah, mom.
My sweet, soft and deep memory.
Not a torrent, not a waterfall.
It's a dry well, and it can't sing under the shade of flowers and trees.
Shu ting at the crossroads of poetry
-To my mother in the north.
I got it.
On the cross of my poem
In order to complete a fable
In order to obey an ideal
The sky, rivers and mountains
Chose me and let me bear it.
I'm not qualified to make sacrifices.
So, I put my heart
Hold it high in your hands.
That is bitterness and pleasure.
A heart that has been pierced a thousand times.
Because of anger and desire
Infinitely expanding and contracting heart
my heart
Under the projection of eyes from various angles.
Emitted a rainbow of light.
But I'm tired, mom.
Reach out your hand.
Put it on my hot forehead.
I gave my life.
My sad flower
Although despised, it was trampled into mud.
I gave my life.
My initial naivety
Although it was desecrated, it was shrouded in doubt.
I held out my hands in purity and shyness.
Begging everyone to leave.
Everybody turn around.
I don't hide my weakness.
Even the swing of my black hair.
Has become a part of the world.
Red house, old banyan tree, fishing lamp on the bay
Into words in my eyes
Words produce sounds.
Surging around like waves.
In order to move
A heart that has not been touched.
But I'm tired, mom.
Reach out your hand.
Put it on my hot forehead.
The sunshine caresses me
Sprinkle it on my thin shoulders.
The wind and rain eroded me.
Change my childish face
I got it.
On the cross of my poem
Let the chorus cheer.
Stars and rain generally fall on my side.
God-like vulture
Eat my insides every day.
I don't belong to myself, but to myself.
That fable
That ideal
Even so.
I became a fossil.
That's my song.
Happy life
Will knock open a closed shutter
Dill flowers are still climbing.
open
Although I'm tired, mom
help me
Stand at the forefront of the front line
Thanks to Wang Guozhen.
How can I thank you?
When I walk up to you
I want to harvest a spring breeze.
You gave me the whole spring.
How can I thank you?
When I walk up to you
I want to take a spray.
You gave me the whole ocean.
How can I thank you?
When I walk up to you
I want to pick a red leaf.
You gave me the whole maple grove.
How can I thank you?
When I walk up to you
I want to kiss a snowflake.
But you gave me a silver world.