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Cheng Zhangli: "Palm Of a Thousand Autumns" group of poems

Legislative literature

White palms – smooth sailing

Cheng Zhangli: "Palm Of a Thousand Autumns" group of poems

Without the help of branches and stems

Nor does a leaf escort be required

You are the sharp arrow that pierces the darkness

Just go

It's always straight

Heading upwind

Not afraid of wind and rain and winter

Standing in green

as

A flat boat that travels on the surface of the green sea

One palm

Like Amitabha

Best wishes

You are born

No need for a knife to cut the axe straight

You are unique

No need for seasonal spring blooms

In the harsh winter

You'll walk through the darkness and

A jungle of heavy greenery

Windy

You will set sail

Stretch the channel of time

Forward, forward

Every step was smooth sailing

Straight to the cloud

Red Palm – Big Picture

Cheng Zhangli: "Palm Of a Thousand Autumns" group of poems

From the same place

You are not willing to be a leaf

I also experienced the pain of traveling

On a crowded runway

Those who stop will wither

If you slow down, you will fall

Those who complain will miss the sun

Those who retreat will miss the ending

Just be reluctant to make a leaf

You will not be broken by the wind

Withered by time

Heads held high and headed forward

Your Rui

Will not be obscured

Your flap

There will be no cracks

Beyond those green leaves

What you bloomed

It's a grand exhibition

It's a spring like no other

Crab claw orchid - good luck

Cheng Zhangli: "Palm Of a Thousand Autumns" group of poems

Compared to lotus

There is no straight dry

There is also no faint fragrance

Compared to peonies

There are no thick leaves

Nor is there a graceful gesture

Born ugly

Except for a pair of hands

Only one pair of hands remained

Can catch

Only growth

When a hundred flowers compete for spring

Grow quietly

When the fragrance of dangui wafts

Grow silently

ugly

Squeeze you into the world

The corner of the gaze

It's in the cold of winter

Just at all the flowers withering

Green withered winter

You hold up a raging fire in your hand

Burned winter

The top of your head is shining red

Renders indifference

Bloom

It's the icing on the cake

It is the fortune above the emerald green

(New Media Center of Legislative Network/ Text)

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