Listen to Chen Ziang's singing coming from a distance.
Dusk quietly came to me.
The wind and sand stirred the cold moonlight.
The cold wind quietly tells the feeling of cutting the skin.
On the banks of the Yangtze River, spring blossoms in March.
A thin old man is like a piece of jade.
The only emperor in the poem
Hibernate a affectionate girl with a poem.
Smart wit revived her in the coming year.
Only the bright moon shines on the thin horse
Noisy birds are in the big tree by the pool during the day.
Quiet and peaceful midnight.
To judge the final outcome of these two words.
No matter how chic it is, it is hard to bear the rainy season.
The night without anyone around is long and cold and lonely.
Only the sentimental boat in Jiangnan.
On a ferry that few people care about in the wilderness.
Drifting alone with waves of spring tides.
In my feeling, time can't disappear.
This substance keeps growing in my ears at the speed of fungal growth.
I feel nervous in the face of the sudden whip shadow.
A humble room crawling in the dusk, approaching winter on moving fingers.
After the passage of water drops and stones, the heart still crawls in time.
Touching the tongue of the scroll is either familiar or unfamiliar.
There is a wet bird song, which slowly hits the cheek like a flood.
Time is like a flower, which opens quietly in the sun.
Like catkins in memory, fluffy and floating in the wind.
The homesickness on the willow leaves in the dream is getting brighter every day.
Spring is like thick dust accumulating on the skin.
Naked autumn clings to the gorgeous petals on the lips of daisies.
Dark mud passed through the thick rain floating from the corners of buffalo's mouth.
Drifting Time goes through autumn like a plant in the field.
Modern Poetry Home 2: Dark Night
Snowflakes are still floating.
Cover the mountain and fill the depression.
With his hometown along the coast.
The year is drawing near.
My heart is burning.
I couldn't sleep all night.
A state of unconsciousness
Fluttering and swaying
Smooth sailing.
Fly over Shaoguan
Fly over Qinling Mountains
woof
Yuan Min
Too proud.
My home
It's getting closer.
Look, look.
That's not the symbol of the city.
Empress Zetian shines in the Tang Dynasty.
Look, look.
There are new tricks in Green Valley and Red City.
That 10,000-ton cement plant
Bidding is in progress.
Flying red flag
Firecrackers are ringing.
Even the hole in my house
Also hidden in the crowd.
Smile with your mouth closed.
Go home quickly.
Surprise them.
Leave it alone for a while.
Standing on the high mountain at the head of the village
It's just a blink of an eye
It smells like Chinese New Year.
Red lanterns are hung high at the door.
The smell of bacon drifted with the wind.
Can't restrain passion
Turn on the sound and cheer.
mother
We're back.
The modern poem 3 of the family is sunny and fragrant, and the years are quiet.
We unloaded the wind and rain at the port.
hilltop
Poem collection "Wings of Zhang Kaifeng"
Handling and lifting distance
In your rich inland
The grass was covered with dust.
Scattered into a whirlpool of words
Seven-year-old has no eyes.
Grazing carefree clouds
The beauty of dreams
Fill the starry sky of childhood with prayers.
In the high heaven, we bathe.
Sing softly like nature.
On the temple surrounded by love
We recited poems in the breeze.
Raise the torch of our ancestors and illuminate the history books.
Put every loud word
All flow into the mother river
Children are endless.
Inherit ancient homesickness
Castle peak in the distance
We came to you out of piety.
Looking up at your child at zero altitude.
It's like watching a spiritual highland.
On both sides of the Yangtze River
The grass continued to sing.
Sing the blue enlightenment in the world of mortals
One day, listening to mountains and rivers.
We sing innocence in a beautiful way.
-There are so many beauties in Jiangshan.
Modern Poetry of Home 4 Fog rises from the water.
Drifting in the wind.
Run to the distant plain
Rush to the top of the mountain.
Run to the nearby bamboo forest
In the middle of; Are busy
There is a road.
To the end of the sky
The way home
A resting place leading to the soul
the past
There are rings of years.
The wind blew the bamboo leaves loudly.
The moonlight reflects the bamboo leaves.
Rain beats bamboo leaves green and fragrant.
Palm trees once planted here.
There are yellow rough cocoons.
With mottled lines and scars
There is a strong blood flow to the ground.
commemorate
I have a beautiful home.
I want to spend my old age there.
Mom and dad have many wonderful memories.
I just can't find my way home gradually.
Everything seems to have disappeared without a trace.
Although my home is changing with each passing day.
But not as nostalgic as I used to be.
Although she has grown up slowly and become strong.
Closure is her philosophy, even if people laugh and laugh inside.
But it also lacks the purest and purest side.
There are besieged cities made of steel everywhere.
People fight for each other, an ideal city.
Just like a general guarding his home, it is inviolable.
I missed my previous expectations. It's the same everywhere.
Floating Life ... Home Page ...
So you are just a beautiful bubble.
Wandering only in dreams
Those memories of the past
Blurred my eyes.
Maybe it will never appear again.