Modern poetry in the morning through the village

Walk barefoot through the village in the morning.

Slowly, slowly

Walk through the village in the morning

Listen carefully.

Dew on the grass tip

A heartbeat dripping with mud

A pale yellow butterfly.

Just woke up from a dream.

In the rape field

Swing around

The river is smooth and soft.

A flock of ducklings use their soles.

Set off layers of ripples

I saw it.

Aquatic plants grow taller and taller bit by bit.

But it never floats on the water.

Poems of my youth

By the wind of years

Twist into a string of bells

Every morning,

Play sweet notes.

How many years have passed since the old house?

On the steps of the old house

Be covered with moss

Mottled walls

After years of wind and rain

Erosion is disintegrating.

A series of old stories

Buried under the eaves

Wild growth. mourning apparel

Like forgetting the years

Be tireless.

Green and yellow.

Yellow and green.

Season after season

Guarding home

Continuous reproduction is endless.

Smoke from the kitchen at dusk

It's long gone

The call of the old cow

In a distant place

Echo slowly

It seems that it can't find its way home.

Time takes the past away.

Crush mercilessly

Scatter all over the floor

That autumn, that autumn

We walked in together.

Pebble path

There are trees on both sides

Cong cong long long

Shake in the wind

Pale yellow Ye Er.

It landed in my hair.

You stop.

Pick it up gently

soft feel

Caress my long hair

you said

Jealous of Ye Er

So easy to approach me

Your affectionate eyes

Like red light.

Sprinkle it on my face

Hot, hot, hot

Afraid of falling into your tenderness

I ran ahead as fast as I could.

You made it.

Side by side with me

go slow

In the sunset glow

On the back of a pair.

Sometimes, sometimes.

I sat alone on the balcony.

Counting the long white clouds in the sky

One, two ...

Fade away

Recall some past events.

One, two ...

Still clear

Think of some friends.

One, two.

everywhere

sometimes

I make my mind like a sleepwalking star.

Live under the eaves

Listen quietly

Missing at night

Into a euphemistic piece of music

Talk in the wind

Slow flow

Instantly condensed into a song

Beautiful sadness

sometimes

I'm in the boundless darkness

Smash all the starlight

Quietly looking for

Pray in the corner

Looking for the lost wings of the moon

Follow me

Thin cloud

On the edge of every dream

Weave a colorful picture.

This country is getting old.

Pomegranate tree flowers in front of the house

Yes, thank you. Yes, thank you.

Time is like a traveler in a hurry.

Never stop moving forward.

There are many customs in the world.

Some beauty and simplicity

done

Day after day, year after year

It stole it quietly.

Childhood on the swing

With a dandelion dream

Floating in memory

Childhood sunset

Swallowed by years

I can't find the familiar shadow anymore.

Sitting alone in the dusk

Look at the weeping willows by the pond.

Staggering in the wind.

I accompany my village.

Wait until dark.