early spring
Wan Peng
The wind changed direction
In the midst of the material
I sniffed
The fragrance of the earth in the distance
I know
The nest of swallows under the old eaves
It is on the way with the wind
The mountains are still dressed in white costumes
Looking east
The stream is under thin ice
Singing
Ice and snow turn into colostrum
Feed the green shoots
Green buds under the snow cover
Weave spring clothes for the earth
All dormant
They have all woken up in the spring breeze
All hope
All buds are full
The spring flowers sounded the golden horn
Spring, come
Dream, set sail
Mother's Spring
Mountains, mottled with residual snow
The mother staggered and leaned down
Filter with your eyes
Every inch of the hillside
Pick up the grains
Air-dried soft ground
Pull out the yellowing artemisia grass
Pinch off the tender bud tips of the alfalfa
Pick up a cabbage
Shake off the soil grains and dry grass clippings on it
In the bleak daylight
The figure of the mother is awkward
In this rickety figure
I found spring
A plate of fragrant soft buns
A spring roll made of cold alfalfa buds
Dumplings stuffed with cabbage are dipped in balsamic vinegar
Mother's spring is so fragrant, so fresh
A shovel and a shovel
Turn over the vegetable garden where the soil melts
Carefully rake each lump of soil
Plant a row of shallots and rows of garlic
One carob, a few nests of melons
Spring, the first to visit
It is the mother's vegetable garden
Carefully pick each egg
Accompany the old hen
Incubate for twenty-one days
In the warm spring sun
Mother, affectionately calling
A bunch of furry "little hairy eggs"
Go to the set to buy a piglet and come back
Give it porridge
Mix it up
Dig wild vegetables for it
Tickle it with a corn cob
Clean the pigsty for it...
It came first, and it was also the most prosaic
In this dull day after day
Grow out
The most beautiful spring
About the Author:
Wan Peng, a native of Tianshui, Gansu.