Hanhai Literature Hanhai Literature 2021-11-04 09:36
Contents of this issue: Tian Lingyun / Luo Zhenya / Beiqiao / Wang Mingxue / Yan Mumbling / Bao Bao / Li Bu married / Li Baodong / Meng Shengli / Ye Xiao (in no particular order)
I love early mornings like this
Tian Lingyun in the morning, I lifted a bucket of cold in the body it went down the tunnel of staying up late, accurately reaching the empty room in my body The more difficult the night made me hot like a person's young history, hovering above the dark clouds, I covered my stomach and accepted the gift of all diseases, and the people who sang at midnight finally only sang the silence I love this refreshing morning, composed of last night by the overdraft, I loved to overdraft last night, I could not support the burden of the first half of my life, I wish I was just a xuanwu, consumed by many human beings in countless days or nights, Perform a fatalistic and repeated dissection
Porter of the hometown
Luo Zhenya stood in the autumn sun of the city empty-handed but the hometown word root is too heavy and thin shoulders can not carry up at all I can only do its porter from afar to hand out the scattered objects like a firecracker in January reading the spring link on the door Of February hand shoulders to walk relatives old ox cart in March busy sending dung cuckoo sound urging people to plant hoes and watering folks in May noisy green in general, a large piece of wheat waves undulating in June When everything grows, father backhand patrol July rice grain pumping ears do not ask black and white August exposure yard yard yard corn stack September look new life sky blue October afraid to open eyes into November Men and women old and young school cat Winter December village eager to be covered by heavy snow The word root of the word "hometown" sometimes again It's so light that you're so light that you don't dare pronounce its name aloud
Niao: the place where the sun gathers North Joe I walk in this mountain village called Niao the eagle that flew in my body all morning, taking away the perfect curve jungle, the birds and insects woke up the light fog shadow still in the arms of the night I came to the holy spring, took a sip of the spring water in both hands, washed my face Transparent There is the white tower where I stand on the mountainside, like pilgrims from the human world to the top of the mountain to the sky to raise the soul slowly rotating prayer tube, who is turning the pages of the scriptures hanging from the pages of the scriptures, is meditating on an old man walking by, The prayer flag nodded in that Tibetan robe, there was the whole life wrapped in the village at the moment and all the memory walls of the Tibetan style of the picture silently watching all these rivers running, too late to say goodbye to the shore of the shore is very content, lonely is the river water intimate with each other, the huge stranger world knows that I stand on the bridge, I walked across this stone arch bridge and remembered the sip of spring water I drank Some of the beauty of the spring water that shook in my body The wildflowers on the side of the road Quiet and reserved are soothing the tears left by the night Today is a cloudy day, This morning there is no sunshine The sounds of nature are lost in my footsteps yesterday, maybe somewhere in tomorrow people say that the Tibetan word Niao means the place where the sun gathers, in fact, Niao is through the dark sunlight, I also became a beam of light
Vision Wang Mingxue (Snow Song) likes sharp light to penetrate the fog in the low places of life that people disdain, holding ten thousand rays of light, planting sunflowers listening to the gentle birdsong to awaken the new time and space falling stars, winning over sad tears The wind blows open the vast distance, re-embarking on the road Like to graze in places that have never been visited, make a pioneering cow that never ends, let the beautiful lies, escape the joy of the world in the face of the truth, and rush like a tide to the ruins of disasters. Rolling in the sky makes me look up at the prayer flag and the inner Bodhi recognize each other Like the mirror flashes a satisfactory smile After the rain, the sky flying frame forgets the footsteps of the rainbow freedom, stepping through the lonely rivers and lakes to blow open the closed firewood door, watching the cooking smoke rise and standing on the high ground, receiving a baptism of love, watching the vast earth hold the dazzling starry sky Like last night's melancholy turned into the clouds of the sky The boring dust left the wind with the breath of green grass with the breath of the sun and the moon to the knees No longer care about those sad joys that have nowhere to ink If there is any expectation, Listen to the songs of blessings in all the silent corners of the wilderness
When I love you
Swallow murmurs
You are the way forward
Stretch infinitely into the distance
Whether it's day or long night
The footsteps of the heart give birth to wings wandering in the steppes, in the mountains
You are a melodious tune
Low and high pitches gradually tugged at the silent heartstrings
By the clear stream, the soul removed the black armor piece
Butterflies flutter around buds like march
When I love you, my motherland
You are the full ears of grain on the golden autumn earth
The endless wind is like a wave
Bowing your head is a tribute
From the city to the countryside, from the south to the north
Red flags flutter overhead
The clear blue sky surrounds you and surrounds you
Oh, the red heart that glitters under the silk cloth of unity
My motherland, you are youth is hot blood
When I read your name
The eight-foot burly man's eyes overflowed with tears
The sun was shining, and the war horses were roaring
You come from the dust of history
From the fervent expectations of ancestors and heroes
Repeated exhortations come in
My motherland
When I shout out to you
A red sun is slowly rising from the horizon
West Mountain Beam
Wrapped buds I know every path of it I am familiar with every side of its cliffs I am familiar with the flowers and trees on both sides of the path I am familiar with the cycle of their four seasons I know which season will bloom what flowers and which height will be what birds I know the smell of the wind on a cloudy day I am familiar with the smell of the wind on a cloudy day I am also familiar with the smell of the snow and rainy air I am familiar with the long-distancers and the buried for a long time I know what I know will go deep into the dream like an old friend, it looks at me and turns away...
Beijing time Li does not marry his whole life, we are living in Beijing time every second, every minute, every hour of the sun rises and falls in beijing time, the tide of the sea rises and falls, the tide of the sea is not the use of Beijing time to calculate the majority of us living in Beijing time, adapted to the established schedule and also used to be patient or obey the unified thoughts and actions for me, throughout his life can not forget two special moments of a certain year, month and day, Beijing time at ten o'clock, dogs were born in a certain year, month and day, Beijing time at 00:00 , a great man died
Frost fell on the eastern slope of Li Bao, the gilded grass greeted the trees on the edge of the cliff with a kneeling posture, and the heart of the cicadas carrying the wilderness with a solemn face of falling leaves was quietly formed into a Buddhist phrase. Something that is inadvertently perceived, their tenacity, or their cowardice, is the most pious reverence for autumn Snowflakes still grooming, frost has come to a vulture flying with its back to the cooking smoke, its bloody gaze, skimming through the floating clouds penetrating red dust, a stream of cold water, whispering sad and joyful songs———————————————————
The sun fell on the treetops Meng Shengli's autumn sunshine, fell on the treetops at dusk leaves, flashed on the south bank of the Tuotuo River with a huge golden-like point of light, a ripple of her laughter at that time, climbed over the small hill of the western slope, I wanted to embrace her into the arms of one by one, with her, a piece of growth of a beautiful memory of the name, as if the dry yellow leaves behind the light point, the wind was far away. It was as if the river and the wind had sent them away. And the light from the treetops always has a warm feeling, covering the sadness
Arriving at Ye Xiao (Hubei) 1 Since the next season will eventually come, why should I care whether this season is full of flowers, or dead leaves withering My years are already full as water My fate can of course be scattered like dust 2 The painting you made and the poem I wrote have chosen a thin piece of paper to roll up the soul I know that you are the same as me is not because the paper is so light but you and I both believe that a piece of paper will be more than any piece of land, I don't want to just stop at hearing your voice I still want to look at your silhouette Even if it's late at night when you arrive, I have to open the door for you to sweep out a dawn with wide eyes 4 Let everything that should come come to the fullest, no matter whether the story in my heart begins as long as there is any ending with you, it is unforgettable sincerity 5 What is the use of asking, is it close at hand or far away in the world, only this one I can pick for you, is this ripe fruit I can wait for you, It's the unopened flower———————————————————
Edited by Wang Hanchen and Shi Hongyan
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