The following are some poems by Yu Xiuhua, which I hope will help you.
I love you
Baba lives, draws water, cooks and takes medicine on time every day. When the sun is fine, I put myself in, like putting a piece of dried tangerine peel and drinking tea alternately: chrysanthemum, jasmine, rose and lemon. These beautiful things seem to take me to the road of spring, so I hold down the snow inside again and again. They are too white, too close to spring. Read your poems in a clean yard. The world is in a trance like a sparrow suddenly flying, and time is bright. I'm not fit for grief. If I send you a book, I won't send you poetry. I will give you a book about plants and crops. Tell you the difference between rice and barnyard grass, tell you a scary spring for barnyard grass.
Halfway across China to sleep with you.
Actually, it's similar to sleeping with you and being slept with by you. It is nothing more than the force of collision between two bodies, and it is nothing more than a flower pushed away by this force. It is nothing more than the imaginary spring of this flower, which makes us mistakenly think that life has been reopened. In half of China, everything is happening: volcanoes erupt, rivers dry up, some neglected political prisoners and refugees, elk and red-crowned cranes at gunpoint, and I sleep with you in the bullets. I pressed countless nights into the dawn and slept with you. I'm the one who happened to sleep with you. Of course, I will also be led astray by some butterflies, taking some praise as spring and a village like Hengdian as my hometown, which are all indispensable reasons for me to sleep with you.
I hope I can help you. Thank you. I hope it will be adopted.