Lang Mai Kimble,
The sun is warm,
Warm and gentle,
There is no swallow dance.
Playing the piano and singing,
The wind is like ice cream,
With a hint of coolness,
My parents sharpened the sickle,
Take a rope and a shoulder,
Simple tools and quick steps.
When I was a child, I ran with my parents.
Never tell your parents to walk slowly,
It's almost the wheat field,
Looking for goals this season,
How many grasshoppers are there? ,
The bigger the better,
Catch up all the way and always throw yourself down,
Enough grasshoppers,
For the chickens and ducks at home,
Let the chicken fly and the duck jump,
Competing for delicious grasshoppers.
With any luck,
The bird's nest in the wheat field is tied to the straw.
This is my biggest goal,
Made of soft thatch knots.
Fist size,
Fantasize that you can get smaller,
Lie in the nest and have a good sleep.
If there are birds,
Better than brothers and sisters,
I worry day and night,
With the squeak I like to hear,
Have a good time all day.
If there are eggs,
I already know how to cook,
Wrap some wet paper for the barbecue,
That smell, that smell,
The land god is drooling,
Remember, this is a generation,
Wheat harvest season,
Excitement and hope,
Instead of harvesting wheat,
It's for grasshoppers, birds and eggs,
Childhood quietly passed a happy time.