Spring
Text/Peng Jiangong
/
The egg is not broken, and spring breaks out of the ice shell
The river willows are green and astringent, and the red palms open a dry map
The call for a return to the tide, a slight smell of green grass
It's time for me to set up a greenhouse and grow a shed of early spring
Grow seven plates and eight bowls, red fat green skinny days
She is like a butterfly, dancing in the middle