Luojiang in March
Jiuqu Luojiang, the dream in my heart, ever since I met you that day, I have lost sleep for you every night, and my uneasy mood is like a A shy and frightened young man in love.
The Luojiang River in March is intoxicated with the color of willows, the clouds and smoke, and the eyes of spring.
In March in Luojiang, the spring scenery surrounds the woods, fields and courtyards. The gurgling water of the Luojiang River gently washes the spring, washing out the greenness of the distant mountains, the luxuriant trees, the colorful colors, and the fullness of spring, attracting the murmuring of swallows and the fluttering of butterflies.
Watching the Luojiang River in March, chanting a poetic and picturesque poem, lingering in the tenderness of the words, a restless heart will calm down. Quietly walking into your quiet and elegant flowers and plants, stopping in your heart, you will suddenly be fragrant and full of affection.
In March in Luojiang, love is like flying flowers. Walk slowly in the depths of flowing time, read the words you wrote with spring colors, and admire the pictures you painted with spring colors. My mind wanders with you, and in the lines of your scholarly words, I see the graceful willow silk and the blooming spring flowers.
In the most beautiful season, you use timeless pen and ink to express the brilliance of life.
Behind the Twelve
You are the noble princess hiding in the deep palace.
Walking into you is like walking into a dream. The dream is not in the dream, the dream is in your beautiful face.
Move your steps gently, affectionately. Open the curtain of a dream just to see your beauty and gentleness.
Lifting the beaded curtains, I can finally see your noble face, with hibiscus as your face and ice and snow as your flesh. You are an immortal who has come to the world.
Who used the imagination of genius and the carving knife of time to carve out such an independent and peerless beauty like you?
The jade pillars in the bell forest are your jade-like character, the ancient vines on the cliffs are your soft arms, the waterfalls and rainbows are your long flowing hair, and the deep caves are your bright eyes...
Read you, read your elegant and romantic charm, read your noble and elegant expression, read your poetic and picturesque scene.
A touch of fragrance fills the sleeves, and a coat of ink wraps around the shoulders. Behind Twelve, you dance your ten delicate fingers to compose an elegant and quiet tune. How many people's strings are plucked among the mountains and rivers?
Tiantai Mountain in spring
Tiantai Mountain in spring is covered with green trees and the spring breeze blows on your face. The patches of plum blossoms, like white snow, dress you up again, as if winter is coming again.
The sound of birdsong awakens the dream and awakens the sleeping woods.
The trees quickly got up and dressed. The peach trees put rouge on their faces, and the plum trees put on their favorite white gauze skirts. They opened their bright eyes to see the green grass in the distant mountains, the fields covered with golden brocade, the bees flying and the butterflies dancing, and the spring scene was bright. Oh, what a beautiful watercolor picture!
A road winds up to the top of the mountain, dragging the spring girl's dress. The sun hangs on your earlobes, and the soft reflection is like running water, nourishing the full love of the earth.
The wind of February blows into your life. The sky is bright because of you; the earth is more fragrant with you.
At this time, I am resting on your arm, looking up at your pretty face, listening to the wafting Sanskrit sounds of Tiantai Temple, letting my soul accompany the earth, either tempering or ascending... ·
In the hometown of poetry, Suiyang, there is a group of women who write poetry.
In the hometown of poetry, Suiyang, there is a group of women who write poetry, a group of women who are guided by their hearts and poems.
Abandon the title of weak and make yourself strong; tear through the forbidden net of "a woman's lack of talent is virtue" and make yourself not only virtuous but also gentle.
In the silent dark night, the light of poetry lifts us up. Bowing down and lingering, the shining wings reflect the sorrow of the soul and the high blue sky.
What guides us to indulge in the fragrance of books? What makes us step into the corridor and feel like we are reborn? The golden and melancholy light in the jungle are ignited by poetry and intoxicated by the poetic heart.
I write my heart in my hand. Write about the spring breeze gently kissing the flower buds, write about the autumn moon illuminating the heart; write about the unforgettable first love that comes back in the midnight dream, and write about the compassion and compassion for others and wipe away the tears. Love, hate, sorrow, romance, snow and moon are all jumping at our fingertips, and our hearts have wings and take off in the sky of poetry.
The group of women who write poems in Shixiang have the tenderness of women and the heroism of men; the willfulness of women and the responsibility of men; the small self in front of the flowers and the moon under the moon, and the big family and country. like.
This group of poetry-writing women in Shixiang has turned the toughest part of their souls into bunches of beautiful flowers, revealing their youthful beauty on the fertile soil of Shixiang.
Jianshan Miao Mountain Hiking Festival
Your singing voice is spiritual, soft and long, writing an immortal poem for a long history of the Miao family.
The height of Jianshan is not as high as the volume of your singing of happiness; the length of Furong River is not as long as your vision of the future.
In the woods, the melodious singing of birds is your crystal note.
Under the sun, the sweat beads of hard work flow meanderingly on the melody.
The sound of nature's songs echoed in the valley for a long time, drifting away from the flute hole of the reed flute, like the source of water, rippling in the heart walls of every Miao family child.
The stretched singing voice sings the eternal hope for thousands of years, sings about endless prosperity; sings a song of peace and prosperity and enjoys peace, sings a song of happy life and good times. Singing into patches of greenery, rivers are lush and mighty.
In the sentimental Lusheng song and dance, there are the sufferings of yesterday and the glory of the present.
Step on the mountain, step on the mountain, step forward to bring happiness and auspiciousness; sing, sing, open your voice and sing to bring long blessings and longevity.
Wangcao Bamboo Weaving Artist
Wangcao Bamboo Weaving is a folk song, sung high and loud on the bamboo weaving artist’s bamboo knife.
The green bamboo dances and sings in the hands of the craftsmen. Selecting the bamboo strips, lowering the bamboo strips, washing the bamboo strips, drawing the bamboo strips, opening the bamboo strips, drying the bamboo strips and weaving the bamboo strips, each process is like a beautiful song.
Weave a basket to carry golden dreams; weave a backpack to carry happy times. A bamboo knife can plow through wind and rain and harvest hope.
Sitting in the depths of the years, sitting in the fragrance of greenery, watching you calmly and calmly, ordering troops on the battlefield, a thin blade rolling up a song of flat sand and falling geese, and the snow falling all over the sky. The shadow of your sword gracefully makes the soul of the sword dance, and the thread of love becomes the new green of spring. One green and one white flutter at your fingertips, like fluttering butterflies playing among the flowers.
You use the fragrance of bamboo to dominate the taste of life.
You use a bamboo pole to sing, singing loud and clear.
It’s loud enough to make people’s blood boil, loud enough to be unforgettable, loud enough to be unforgettable forever...