Wheat fields in the sun, gushing with golden waves.
Growing up in this land, I was familiar with the smell of wheat.
In the summer, when the season of small fullness enters, the vigorous atmosphere is strong.
I know that a few waves are a long summer time.
I love the scorching heat of the sun, the coolness of this moonlit night. I will be just like when I was a child, greedily bringing me a wonderful heavenly night with the temperature difference between day and night.
I loved the wheat fields everywhere and the sunny smiles of the villagers. In the clear light of the moonlit night, the sound of wheat field sand larping, and the tone of insects chirping.
The beauty of summer, only after experiencing, can be experienced, it is beautiful, excellent.
Summer has set sail, the hearts of the people in the countryside are open, and the days are full of happy imaginations.
Xiao Man came, the ears of wheat were yellowed, and the strong particles were only a little bit filled with pulp.
Summer wind, Haoran, summer sun, scorching waves. It was full of golden grains and contained a lot of hope.
The fields, the fields, the hearts of men. When the season of mango planting comes, there is a scene in the field, a busy, a brilliant.
Wheat, bowed in the harvester, seeds, brewing in the dirt.
The days ahead will not be too long, full of rural green, renewing another hope
The corridor of memory, extended in sections. The footsteps of the morning, the trembling cotton suit, the bent waist, the rustling of the sickle, the morning sun that the eyes saw when the waist was straight.
These who have gone away are still hanging on their hearts.
Today, the traces of the past are completely gone, only the smell of wheat wafting in the summer wind.
The years that have passed, the wheat waves forever, the wheat fragrance forever.
The old years in my heart, leisurely wandering. Thinking about time, thinking about the past, looking at the new summer, thinking about being old, with affection, deep love, the stories in time are one after another.
In the retrospectives of the years, I slowly became quiet and peaceful.
Gradually, gradually, I packed up my heart's bags and moved forward, without a trace of trepidation, without a wisp of sorrow.
Eyes full of affection, determined eyes.
The wheat is yellow, go and see the wheat field.
Look at the golden yellow, listen to the swaying heart, and the waves in front of you.
In the distance, on the field, the villagers, the comfortable appearance!
I looked far away...
The wheat is yellow, and the wheat surges, and the smell of new wheat!
(Original title: Wheat is yellow) (Qinghe Liuxiang)