Keywords Shu, wide sleeves, freehand brushwork,
Water is like a green ribbon, and mountains are like hosta.
Half the moon is on the mountain and one is in the water.
A picture reflecting heaven and earth and missing lovesickness.
The colors are stacked and the wind blows, awakening King Jingjiang to travel through time and space.
Guilin people lined up, holding a thousand-year-old Sanhua wine.
New friends and old friends of Laowangcheng walked along Lingqu to the ancient south gate.
Zan: Good wine!
Needless to say, there is nothing in my heart, and I have experienced many vicissitudes.
Singing folk songs—
The local accent throws hydrangeas and piles up a string of small exquisiteness.
When the boat crosses the lake, the man in the picture walks.
There is a osmanthus fragrance in the city, and there are thousands of osmanthus fragrance in the street.
Prescribe me and you, the secret recipe of healing and pain relief.
The sound of reeds is endless, stirring the smoke from the kitchens of the two rivers and four lakes.
The annual light in Guilin is particularly slow, so slow that it is only enough to turn once in a lifetime.
VIPs from all over the world climb Longji terraced fields by fishing fire.
Bowl of rice noodles!
I bowed my head with joy, and my relationship with Jiatianxia has just begun.
Postscript 19 ended his trip in China in the summer, and soon after returning to the United States, he received an essay notice to launch the "Beautiful China" World Chinese Poetry Competition to commemorate the 70th birthday of the motherland. This little poem was written one night at the end of August, and it was soon finished. I forgot about it after submitting it the next day. When I woke up early yesterday morning, Brother Chun An of the Philippines left a message on WeChat "Congratulations on winning the prize again". I also asked him: no, people must be mistaken.
After breakfast and finishing the students' homework, a few hours later, not only Brother Chun An sent the announcement of the award-winning results, but also friends from the literary and art circles such as Pang Bai, Xia Chan and Hua Chun in the same list sent the same information one after another.
Only then did I know that the poetry contest, which lasted for more than half a year, had ended and this poem was included in the "bronze prize" list. Up to now, I have changed this poem at least 20 times, and it is no longer the version submitted during the competition.
The old manuscript really can't go back. You have to change it once. No matter whether the manuscript was finished, published or won an award, as long as you go back and read it carefully after a while, it will definitely change. I know it's time-consuming and unnecessary to revise the old draft, but I can't help it.