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【Selected Poems of Xiaojiao】
Mother to me
In winter, a dream of frosted potatoes
I coincided with the seventies
That fiery, youthful
Black hair grew in the heavens
The farmland offers you
My mother
I heard that I was also seventeen years old
One hundred and seventy centimeters tall
Hands clasped, eyes full of spring grass
The road ahead is long, enough to reach the distance from the village entrance to the examination room
On the side of the road I watched you walk by
Maybe only the elm tree will explain your destiny
And now
I'm also seventeen years old
Without hands, stand as a shovel handle to dig into your own brain
But often fail in autumn leaves
Which formula should this be listed into
The night leaves a blank day today
Tianming always bites my pillow
Throw out a tear and throw out a season
And the danger is
I may only see you in my dreams
Exalted youth
goat
Goats are fake
Half grows out of the mountain stone
Half nourish the sheepfold
No one can get them completely
Since the beginning of the sensible
These things are never white
Under the setting sun, it is also gray and obscure
You stand in front of it
You'll know
The goat cries, similar to the cry of a child
Quatrains
Sit here
Sit on a piece of earth
Seventeen years old, teeth crushing ice
But the wind could not extinguish the fire in her clothes
What to do? Go to school
Connect the lightning in the sky with your back
Or wait for this pair of hands to calcify?
Together with the cocoon
Together with farmers
Together with the mother
The curse of the fifty-year-old disease
First snow
In this winter
She kissed the fire
Kiss each one
Painful face
In the posture of a stove
A warm room
And the hands are rough as bricks
It's hard to do
In winter
Her hair was a snowstorm
Suddenly, late at night into the cold door
Smooth the cold
childhood
Late at night after hail
It was quiet like a garden
Corn, spinach, pumpkin
Red chrysanthemum
Death began only after lodging
There is a lot of grass on the ground
There was also a lot of water
It smells a lot like autumn
Someone quietly cried
Hail passed late at night
July 10th was so cold
next year
She opened the notebook
He shuddered and pulled it off hard
Cornmeal stuck on a yellow dotted line
October, this brand new winter
Just lie flat in front of her
One-page cover
No wheat, no sweet potatoes
Nothing
Raised his hand and fanned it
Just braving the wind
It was earthy, and a little like the smell of rain like snow
It's still early next year! She thought
After that time, I will not want to do anything
Like sixty paving kang long
Printed tarpaulin
Late autumn sunset
Only in the weather at this time
Our bone joints feel the farm tools
Thus, thinking about the future
One road
Untie the belt that this widow is holding in the village and the city
At harvest, mill corn, wheat, turbans and weariness
whereas
Dandelions always feed the land in late autumn
When my father was gone, an earthen house was gone
Together with donkey carts and farm tools
Step by step
Squeaky
Beams and lintels
Sore bone joints
The cold wind hit her along with the headache
At that time we sat on the kang
Winter is always thought of
Think like late autumn
Lead by side
Autumn nights
Late autumn nights
Lie on a fallen leaf
Cold
Childhood and memories bear frost
Red sea buckthorn flashed coldly
By her pillow
Such a night
The moon reminded her of her grandmother
The old man
Row after row of village-like backbones
Cracks, loess, children, fields
Embrace her with the heat of wheat ripeness
Hands as rough as the moon
The moon in the countryside is round
In the late autumn small hands are on the wall
The eyes are clear and bright, and the spirit is turned
Baba and other grandmothers
Stuff her with a yellow apricot in her small mouth
And behind her back
It flows to the Yangtze River in late autumn
White water gushes
Dot the plum
There are three sections of road from the mouth of the village to the field
Not long
All the passages lead to those flowers
They bloom only in the spring
Break your eyes
So the face is full of rainbows
Every time I mention this
All mention hometown at the same time, smoke
Or memory
Note: "Goat" is selected from the "Poetry Journal", and the rest of the poems are the original "Bijie Poetry Journal" submitted by Xiaojiao in 2019.
About the Author
Li Hua, born in 2003, is a farmer from Zhangjiawan, Wulanchabu, Inner Mongolia. From an early age, he did not go to school because of his family, and he taught himself to read. Like Lu Xun and Xiao Hong, some works have been published in "Chinese Campus Literature", "Poetry Journal", "Grassland", "Special Zone Literature" and so on. The article was forwarded by China Writers Network, Writers Digest, China Poetry Network WeChat public account, Mammoth Poetry Journal and so on. Recommended by "Chinese Campus Literature", Xiaojiao's article "My Family's Accurate Poverty Alleviation" participated in the "China Poverty Alleviation" and the "Poverty Alleviation Story I Experienced" collection and exhibition activity sponsored by Xinhua Network in 2020, and won the second prize in the text category. Renmin University student Wang Ziyi's story based on her was awarded the second prize in the "Third Non-Fiction Writing Competition" organized by the True Story Project. Her incident was reported by China News Network, Xinhua News Agency, China Writers Network, Sina, Sohu, Tencent and others.