Editor's Note On January 31, 2021, the Fourth National Member Congress of the Chinese Poetry Society was successfully held, and 170 people were elected as members of the Fourth Council of the Chinese Poetry Society. This WeChat public account will select the selected poems of directors and members on the basis of merit for the benefit of readers.
Hao Suisui is a member of the Chinese Writers Association and a student of the 29th Advanced Seminar for Young and Middle-Aged Writers of Lu Xun Academy. He has published a large number of works in many newspapers and periodicals at home and abroad, such as "People's Literature" and "Poetry Journal", and his works have won the "People's Literature" and "Poetry Journal" Competition Award, the Bingxin Prose Award, the Sun Li Prose Award, the Lu Quan Poetry Award, the Long March Literature and Art Award, etc., and his works have been selected for various annual selections and primary and secondary school students' language examination papers. Published 15 collections of works such as "Exhausted Desolation", "Hard Time", and "Zhuangli". He now lives in a mountain village in northern Shaanxi.
Hollow out the stones
Hao Suisui
Blacksmith shop
The grains that were born from the fire were given to the scythe
Autumn will be harvested on the blade of the scythe
A hoe hardened into steel through the bellows
Hoe off the weeds and leave the best spring to the blacksmith
The snow on the Roundhead Mountain opposite the gate is melting
The sound of iron striking from the blacksmith's shop reached the branches where the magpies had called
A splash of mars, all the doors in the village
Paste the spring league in red
scarecrow
In the back bay, the valley puts the best growth
Left to the village, watched over by the Scarecrow
The grain is getting fuller and fuller
The grain was left to him by his father
Father cut down the whole autumn with a sickle
Autumn is a grain drying ground for crops
Father dried here from the autumn rain
The back of the scarecrow that comes back
The scarecrow left in the field will not return
It also has to take care of the emptiness and the cold wind
Photo by Lei Li
If the sound of the wind is a letter of time
The village gradually transformed into a winter image
The father who sent the snow had been lost in the wind for a long time
The smoke rises and suppresses the limelight
The footsteps of walking cannot leave an inch of time worth giving up
My father must have gone looking for his own time
The wind and snow continue in another color
The lower the greeting of identity, the more snow colored
Thicker than the height of the village, unattainable cooking smoke
It was the father who wrote back to the wind
Every snowflake that drifts is the father
Time to get back from afar
I had a spring to survive the desolation of the Kanji
Closed in the door of spring, closed in
The Chinese characters in the house are closed in the night
The lamp that doesn't dry the oil
It has been a long time, and the rust has been rusted
When will the outbreak end? The oracle hinted at it
Spring, the spring that has been decorated with grass and trees
Please return the fields and hills, of course
And give it back to the city
Spring in the newspaper is red
My spring survived the desolation of every Chinese character
Cross the rusty exit of the night
Inside the hard part
Touch the harder times
The stonemason came carrying a chisel
Put your own ideals and love
Engraved on the back of time
The wind and rain on earth have come and gone again and again
The skeletonized appearance arrives straight
disillusionment. Stone with the essence of the part
Try to leave their vicissitudes behind
It's getting dark
The mason's lamp was on
He carved midnight with a chisel
Just want to possess all the prophecies of the stone
Leave tonight's testimony
Drink it
Drink a part of the time
The heart is entrusted
Leave it to a lot of time
Including secrets that should not be spoken
Drink half a glass of sunshine
Illuminates the darkness within the body
Hearts grow into trees in the light
If there is a leaf that needs to wither
That's my annoyance
Drink a part of the decay
Drink the past
It is being lost
Time permits
Please bury the secret into decay
Write down the past in one stroke
Time on the undertone
Hunters
Gunshots pulled the trigger in the grass
Blue and white porcelain could not withstand the sound of the wind
The sound of the wind is fragile, where it passes
Hear the mournful cries of the beasts in the middle of the night
Beasts that grow up in winter
Try to lurk outside the targeting star
The sound of the wind was higher than the cold, the hunter's body temperature
Warm up gunpowder and bullets
When aiming again at the beast's terrified footprints
Walking on fire, filled the grass and trees
Ten thousand crevices
Feed the birds
You decorate the birdsong with hunger
Keep the initial sun away from food
Flowing water distinguishes itself from the tips and branches of the grass
Eventually withered in the form of light and shadow
I got up and found firewood in the right light
Light it with a meter of light and heat up the cool air
Heat a hot river and valley
I caught the birdsong on an empty stomach with my hands
Please all the begging birds this morning
Come to my compound
I fed them the direction of a river
Feed a leaf green, feed a handful of firewood
flame
I continued to feed, feeding them the sharp edge of light
Feed them the height of the mountains
Feed them the footprints that linger in the courtyard
Autumn in the mirror
Time is yellow
All the leaves fell
Starry. Densely populated
One by one, they are also yellowing
A lamp that contains the light of the night
Fade in the mirror
There is only one path to reach
The loneliness of this autumn
Who goes to hand in the extra hustle
Who's in the mirror is destined to be
Sink into the yellowing loneliness
subsidiary
The birdsong lost their feet and fell on a leaf
The leaves are too light to bear the slip off
Become another verb at this moment
Let this early morning bird song know how to leave
The sky is too light, so much
Things above the top of your head look at the land
Sun and goshawks during the day, night
Stars and sleeping clouds and a moving wind
It's going to fall down after all. The sky is higher
It is also a height that can be touched when the night is low
Every bird song is an appendage of the bird
Just as the petals are appendages of the branches
Seawater is an appendage of salt, and salt is human
subsidiary. Just as day is an appendage of night
Just as you and I are attached to each other
Like you and I are ultimately vassals of the land