Chapter one: a famous sentence praising the motherland: pro-motherland.
Xu Min
meet by chance
Countless beating faces on this screen.
Beijing Opera, Sichuan Opera, Huangmei Opera?
It is my hometown.
Listen to the beautiful voice of the golden rooster.
Rough pottery that awakens sleeping ancestors.
Take root in mountains and rivers, sprout folk.
How many Gong Shang Jiao are there?
Stepping on the Millennium drums and rhythm
Cross mountains and plains.
Walk past that Hong Ling Chinese-style chest covering and shake it off.
A corner of the fresh Jiangnan
Terracotta Warriors and Horses in Stone
Boat songs and fishing news on the smoke waves
Who can't grasp the rhythm of the heartbeat with their heavy feet?
Cross the ocean-go abroad
And bring it back to the village outside Wan Li.
Dowry walking into mother's bedside
Walk into the teapot in Dad's hand.
Walking into the batik cloth on my sister.
Grazing a flock of cattle and sheep that can't walk away.
Swallows in this life will not go home in the wrong direction.
Flying dance sleeve
I am a descendant of the desert sword-watching poet.
Eyes rise with the vein of Sanshan Wuyue uplift.
Browse the internet again
The woman with a flower drum lantern by the Yellow River is my lover.
The pace of moving lotus in January
My heart is a clean jar full of love.
I just want to get pregnant in clear water.
Kissing the motherland from the plateau to the ocean
Tonight I am kissing the new moon on your forehead.
Chapter two: A famous poem praising the motherland.
Hanman
Heyegai Hubei
Highland barley shakes Tibet.
Teenagers hiking north in early spring and February
Across the earth, like a verb, across countless nouns and adjectives.
Through the shadows and light in the classic and historical subsets
900 plus a sweater, 30 miles to learn a dialect.
Love a girl in Qili?
He was blessed in the vastness, Yan Fu.
His happiness may be secular.
But bright, make bees jealous.
The small hotel where he stayed along the way was as warm and sweet as a beehive.
Flying people use the bounce pipa as an aircraft in air movement.
? Gansu. Sichuan. The children shouted:
? Gale gale, pomegranate blows red! ?
The pregnant woman walked slowly across the street.
Like bulging porcelain, it means that bundles of flowers are getting fragrant.
The long sleeves of ladies in Tang and Song Dynasties gushed with flowing water.
The gurgling water is the old capital of Beijing and Hu, where the night is deep and the singing is slow.
A scholar living in seclusion in an alley.
Tap the inkstone with a brush.
Wan Li ink and rice paper crossing ripples.
? Boundless. The vast lunar calendar is quiet and melancholy.
A man who goes deep into the hinterland of Britain and France
Until my twilight years, I still look back at the paper-cut window grilles.
A big pagoda tree in Hongdong, Shanxi Province, with white hair shaking the green leaves and branches.
? Roots, the complex veins like leaves on the map.
Miniaturize the palm print, resume and future of every Han Chinese.
The prodigal son turns back, the prodigal son turns back, there are always grandchildren and dragon boats in the dream, and the inspiration is outside?
? Return my childhood relatives and songs.
Xijiang River is white and Qinyuan is old in spring.
The motherland inside the body, pain, burning.
? Think of skin as the last frontier?
And senile plaque is about cumulonimbus clouds in frontier areas?
Motherland? Ancestral country
Because of the collection of generations of bone swords, the soil is thick and the sky is high, and the spring is warm and the autumn is cool.
Only your own land.
Will tolerate the shame and loneliness of all living things, ghosts, scholars and rebellious children
A poor man walked across a field where crickets were chirping with backache and leg pain.
The night made him break the potatoes in the sack, which was no different from gold for the time being.
He suddenly felt birds and people passing by.
Like an old relative I haven't visited for years.
? How red and bright the lanterns and people in front of the house are! ?
He was tearful and couldn't tell whether it was his dead mother, wife or daughter.
He has everything, when love exists?
Chapter III: Famous sentences praising the motherland: the height of the motherland.
Guanglong Di
The height of the motherland
I was born in Qinghai by the Yellow River.
This is my sunshine-cut Tibet
There are three sunflowers on the table.
An oil lamp is on the table.
My favorite salt.
Like a heavy rain.
Through the liver and intestines
Autumn is coming, and the autumn wind is cool.
Road is suffering, life is heaven.
The singer opened the piano box.
I sang about my hometown.
There are many mountains in Ansai, and the water of post horses is flourishing.
The sound over and over again
It was the moonlight that washed your lips.
The height of the motherland
The kindness of the elderly
One is my father.
One is my own mother.
Protecting Yinchuan's rice
Guard the grain and grass in Guanzhong
Life is short and long.
You can grab bones and meat.
Can be similar
The window grilles are open and the years are long.
My little sister.
hot body
Lift the spout with your left hand and point to Lvliang with your right hand.
Your tenderness is my strength.
Fill your sleep with silver.
Put pig iron on your head
My happiness grows in the soil.
Chapter four: Praise the famous poems of the motherland, or take dreams as horses.
lake
I want to be a loyal son from afar
And temporary material lovers.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I have to follow the path of martyrs and clowns.
Everyone should put out the fire.
I held the fire high alone.
This fire is a big flower, which falls to the sacred motherland.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I spent the long nights of my life with this fire.
This fire is the language of the great motherland, and it is a Liangshan walled city built of stones.
Dunhuang with dreams as the soil? Bones that will get cold in July
Such as white firewood, hard snow.
Over the mountain of the gods
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I threw myself into this fire, and these three just imprisoned me and spit out bright lights.
Ten thousand people will go through my knife to build the language of the motherland.
I am willing to start from scratch.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I'd also like to sit at the bottom of the prison.
Of all God's creations, only I am the most perishable and die at an irresistible rate.
Only food is my treasure.
I held her tightly and held her to have a baby in my hometown.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I would also like to bury myself in the surrounding mountains and watch my quiet home.
Facing the river, I am infinitely ashamed.
I wasted my years and felt very tired.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
Time flies, not a drop remains.
A horse died in a waterfall.
If I am reborn on the shore of my motherland in a thousand years.
A thousand years later, I once again have rice fields in China and snow-capped mountains in the Zhou Dynasty.
Ma Tian qi ta
Like all poets who dream of horses.
I choose an eternal career.
My job is to be the life of the sun.
Since ancient times,
He is brilliant and clever.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
Finally, it was carried into the immortal sun by the gods at dusk.
The sun is my name.
The sun is my life.
The mountain top of the sun buried the body of poetry? The Millennium Kingdom and I
Riding a phoenix for 5,000 years and its name? Dragon horse? I will fail.
But poetry itself will overcome the sun.