In my hometown, the rain in the south is not only related to farming, but also adds a lot of fun to my childhood. Those happy raindrops splashing on the pond or lake, like bouncing notes, catching chirping fish...
- Li Wubing
‖ birdsong in my hometown awakened my worship of rain
I can't forget the cuckoo's call
This natural cry and rain drip together
A sound fell into my heart
Awaken my worship of rain
The good is like water, and the rain is the pride of the water
Good rain gives birth to spring and a hundred grains
It is possible to revitalize a year's livelihood
Cuckoo knows the rain in the sound
Rain is the angel that protects life
As a child, he wore a hat hat
Dressed in a brown coat, she likes to listen to the rain
Drainage, asphalt, a night rain
Delve into the lifeblood of the land
Anxiously visit the situation
The farmer looks at the scenery of rain weaving
Sometimes I weep with joy
And the children who herd cattle
Favorite to play in the rain
In the rain, the sound of cuckoo
Like that legendary flute
Play a nostalgic song
The rain in the light wind touches people's hearts
Whose woman stood at the head of the field
Shake the scarf of spring
Meals in the basket
Waiting for the man who rakes the field
Wait in a hurry
The call of the cuckoo brings rain and fog
Moisturizes swollen plump seeds
Urge them to sprout and spit green
Rain knows that the land is approaching the desire to survive
Always with grand spring colors
Comfort the farmer's worries about the long drought
Small flowers that bloom according to the field mound
Eye-catching, one by one
It should be the heart left by the raindrops
Those wet days
Father had raised his rough hands
Skillfully sow golden grain seeds
His eyes were full of joy
Squint and admire the glow of the seeds
The poetry of rainbows in the air
They are like jumping notes
Grain by grain, grain by grain
Give me the eyes of a little time
Filled with auspiciousness and childishness
The cuckoo's cry falls into the rice fields
The joy of implantation spilled with wisps of life
Days from the rain
No desolation of crying
The cuckoo hides under the rain curtain
Hidden in the long hair flowing in the shade of willows
Sometimes he shows his wings fluttering
Never tire of it, east and west
Let the attentive cry
One sound is tight, one sound is urgent
Hurriedly paddled over the fields
Dispel your father's loneliness
Give the whip flowers that explode
Drag on the shadow of happiness
It's rainy in spring
Nostalgia is full of bitter connotations
I'm too far away from home for too long
I always miss the birds in the rainy season
Miss the old cow's affectionate sniffles
I miss my father's calloused hands
Warm my memories
A sound cuckoo
With fog and rain...
‖ Father, walking along the furrow
Spring plowing season
The father drove the cattle and supported the plough barefoot
Quite patiently shouted
Walk along the furrow
Muddy water flooded the neck of the foot
Cold to the bone of the toe and sore
He will not stop the works that have already been started
Plough after plough
And there is no room for deviation
It takes three hours
Let this paddy field turn over
Greet the planting song
No one ever boasted that he had a craftsmanship
Even this fine farming
No young man can take over
Farming is not like in a factory
Set the technical level
Father year after year
Always yelling with great excitement
Walk in the plough ditch
‖ mother, she likes to use the village tone to summon the chickens to the cage
Can't forget, late cooking time
Mother always stood outside the kitchen and looked out
Then, "Gollum, Gollum."
Diligently use the rural tone to summon the chickens back to the cage
From time to time, he turned around and looked at the stove pond
Worry about the firewood stopping the burning of the beep peeling
The northwest corner of the kitchen is the head of the village
There is no one to go north
Some are grassy slopes where flocks of chickens are kept
Grasshoppers and earthworms are found in the shallow grass
The little bean lady who collected her wings and rested
There are also many unknown bugs chirping
Flocks of chickens running out of their cages in the morning
Don't worry about the food of the day
The mother summoned the flock and tied the cage
Dinner was cooked. She would stand outside the door
Shout my nipple name, one tight, one slow
Very patient voice
With the smell of rice, with maternal love
Still moving around in my heart
‖ rice vegetables, growing after the rain feet
Ground rice with white flowers
Ground rice vegetables grown on the ground or on the mounds
Before the flowers bloomed, they were already full of smiles after the rain
Invited us to hold the shovel in one hand and the basket in the other
In the spring, it's busy
Green ground rice dishes
Ground rice vegetables growing after the feet of the rain
Flourishing
The village boy seems to be unable to catch up with its growth
Bumping into our line of sight everywhere
As a child, I did not understand the sorrows of adults
I only like to jump into the bamboo basket one by one with rice vegetables
Accumulate into many, many pleasures
Boys, girls
Crazy together digging up rice dishes
Become a painting by Murano
We look forward to March 3
Ground rice dish boiled eggs
Walk joyfully to the field
Singing the songs of the festival
- Really, the state of mind as a child
So easy to satisfy
‖ the bird in the coat, captured a child's heart
Father called it the cloaked bird
Sixty years later I learned its scientific name was Panque
Its nest resembles the coat of the father wore
This rain gear woven with brown
It was used in construction by climbing birds
Captured a child's heart
Nestlé hangs from tall branches
The look of swaying in the wind is particularly striking
I love watching the birds swing every day
Listen to their joyful singing
I think my childhood was so lucky
You can enjoy such a wonderful scenery
Watch the climbing finches nest with the ears of silk thatch
Watch them incubate intently
Watch them catch bugs
Show fatherly and maternal love when feeding
Also watch them lively and playful
Also, when a storm hits
Their cries are particularly sharp
It seems to cut off the wind and whip rain arrows
At this time, I will think of the father who ploughs the field
Send a brown coat
Bamboo buckets...
Li Wubing Profile:
Formerly known as Li Wubin, he once worked in the Ministry of Railway Soldier Culture and the Ministry of General Political Qungong, and was a member of the Chinese Writers Association, a member of the Chinese Prose Literature Society, and a director of the Chinese Modern Gelug Poetry Society.