Prose Poems of Electric Power Workers (1) Summer, High Temperature and Hot Summer
Clouds are steaming in the sky.
The scorching sun hangs overhead.
Spit out a lot of fire dragons.
There is not a breath of wind.
Bees, butterflies and dragonflies have long since disappeared.
The heat is pressing and the heat wave is rolling.
Stir-fry everything in the world.
The power supply is blocked and the power grid is in a state of emergency.
The call of responsibility and mission
They didn't hesitate.
Shoulder the commitment and heavy responsibility of serving people's livelihood
Prose Poems of Electric Power Workers (II) Meeting the Summer Peak, Flood Control and Emergency Rescue, and Saving Electricity
Maybe nature has affected their quality.
Maybe the high temperature has exercised their spirit.
For those expectant eyes.
In the streets and alleys where emergency repairs are being carried out.
In that hot mountain canyon
At the top of the pole burning at 40-50 degrees.
Where do the appliances stop?
That's where they race against the hot sun.
Where is the danger of failure?
They are sweating like a pig.
They used flesh and blood
It depicts the city, countryside and modern civilization of the fire tree and silver flower.
Prose Poems of Electric Workers (3) Helmets, anklets and toolkits
Give them morning and evening and stay with them all the time.
Of course, few people remember when the breeze swept their faces.
Steaming the earth at high temperature in midsummer
The scorching sun is oppressing people.
When the lights went out, it was sultry and dark.
We just know their last names now.
How many times has it been a close call?
Groups of flesh and blood iron men.
Rise of the legend is sweating with heat.
They tell people by their actions.
They speak with sweat and loyalty.
Unscramble the lamp in the long river of years.