The original text of a poem written to passers-by in the forest of steles in spring.

I want to write a poem about spring with affectionate pen and ink. That is my long-dormant wish, the joy of blooming, and the dream of awakening.

I want to sing a poem about spring with fire-like passion. I want to let the feathers of the sun fly on the earth, and let the information of spring fill the rivers and mountains overnight.

I want to sing spring, accompanied by the vigorous growth of wheat seedlings and new buds that have just sprouted; I want to sing spring, accompanied by the sudden explosion of spring thunder and shy lingering spring rain; I want to sing about spring, with the wings of birds flying in spring and the quiet green branches; I want to sing spring, with the warmth of fishing fire and the singing of running water.

Today, a ray of sunshine shines on the land in spring. When the budding buds are looking at spring, I see the nameless grass growing wantonly in the embrace of spring.

This is a poem I want to write for spring. Spring rains shed tears for me in the mountains, grass shed tears for me in the soil, and all the mountain flowers shed tears for me in the spring breeze.

This is a poem I want to write for spring. The blade of grass writes for me, the spring rain writes for me, the flowers write for me, and the cuckoo songs write for me.

Poetry in spring is getting longer and longer under the brush strokes of seasons, and it is getting longer and longer in the vast Yuan Ye. They are poems written by hardworking farmers with sweat, and poems written by people who trudge with their feet.

When green shoots grow in the cracks of old vines, when the barren and dry land exudes the fragrance of grain, how I long to be a seed, a child with dreams, and I will write poems and sing for spring with my body and my passion.

My poem is the arm held high by years, my poem is a glorious chapter of life, my poem is a happy song standing in the spring breeze, and my poem is the crazy growth of countless dreams in the embrace of spring. I will use my body to slow down the birds, and my passion will write poems and sing for spring.