The warmth of the fireworks blooming
Fu Xinmin
The year is a colorful dream of fireworks weaving
The year is the rock sugar gourd of the United States
Years are self-inflating marshmallows
The year is the sound of frozen red little hands tapping ice
Years are one-step little minds
Years are crackling with the smell of smoke
Nian is the sound of grunting in the pot on the stove
Nian is the knife-headed meat that was stolen from the desk
The year is the tip of the tongue swirling carrots and the sour clicking sound
The year is the little sparrow on the table said non-stop
Years are the screams of sale
The year is a lively ten mile flower lantern
Nian is a smiling face that is steamed red by the heating
Nian is the monkey in the heart
In the year, it is the elder who touches his head and calls out the name of the milk
The year is a unique gathering order
The Year is a small bag of thoughts and blessings
The year is not far away from Happy New Year and a big hug
The year is the day when the South China Sea is north when there is no one around the dialect of the local chat
The year is the mountain and the water and the cloud in the streets and alleys
The year is a red window flower painted on the year
The year is a big red lantern hanging high
Year is an indispensable ritual
Nian is a taste carved in the bones and melted in the blood
The year is the crystal clearness of the white flesh, and the texture of the red flesh is sober
The year is the guide for the deceased ancestors to return home
Nian is the proud inheritance of my Chinese culture for thousands of years
(About author:Fu Xinmin, teacher of the Affiliated Middle School of Southwest University, member of Chongqing Writers Association)
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