Text/Quinoa
Wine
Wine, to qingquan to talk about. Or, talk to sorghum.
Enough, than fruit trees.
I will drink all the country and give it to the world.
You can wear ancient costumes, you can listen to fireworks, you can turn on this light,
Everything is excited and can penetrate the mountains in the clouds
Look at each river, watch the flowing tears return to the body,
Watch the galloping horses stop.
Drunk can dance, sad can cry, happy can play songs
Wine pours out the light of the world, counting the earthly worlds
I was so drunk. Wine is my brother at this moment,
The cloak is scattered, not to think about it, and after holding the lips of the speech,
I drank three cups and painted on the earth with branches
Tea
The forest was planted in a cup, and I gazed at the river with leaf buds passing through spring
Look at the eyes with flower droplets, the sun gathers roots and whiskers
The body is blessed. Ten years ago, ten years later, sitting alone
I re-colonized chengdu, writing poetry, singing and dancing
The footprints of roses sway in the rain, and the leaves are nurturing the green of the season
They had enough backbones to support my body
I did not dare to drink three thousand, for fear that the petals floating in the water would fall like snow
I think more than seeds, and dirt doesn't bury novel life
Always find the way to your hometown. No matter how deep the night is
Gu Yu held a farewell ceremony. I'm still blue water
In the washing of the gastrointestinal tract
Like my love, I met JialingJiang in middle age
A wooden boat no longer wanders. Blades replace my light,
Cover the earth
Silky soft. I chewed a sun and moon under the plain sky
A teacup in your hand overflows for the rest of your life
Light as smoke
I was the only one in middle age who hugged Yanxia
Like flowing water, mountain peaks, rain and snow accompanied by distant places
My dark horse cleans up this country
Hit a pair of iron hooves hard. Blends in with the wind
Who can conquer half of the wall, who can be
The colors of the sky smear the sky, and the lakes
Same with this brilliant starry smoke
Like the change of bird wings rising in the air
Like this time my wife was lying on the bed
Nurture, a long-lost rain to save the sunshine
The beginning of the smoke, the end of the water color
Walk as nature, as light as this earth
Yesterday's recurrence
The night gallery, the breeze wantonly extracts the flowers of the moonlight, the river water, the valley
How the scenery will bloom in your body
Horseshoes flew up a few clouds in the snow
The bells in front of the door are mottled to express it for you
Ripe fruit stooped, with grain and pastoral singing,
I could hear the hunger of the stones
Moss and flowing springs nourish each other with joyful love
Pine resin looms in the sun and moon between the hanging
I'm going to sink and sink into the abyss tonight
Raise aloft the flame-like reeds and take away the wooden boat
Yesterday's long-distance travelers have changed their appearance
latent period
Lurking trees do not listen to the wind, weeds collect wild fruits,
I confessed to the water droplets, each leaf ticking out the undulating waves of rain flowers,
Dreaming, how much spring and autumn transform the colors
In middle age, they watch over the dark diseases of the world
The lake water is not up, the birds and finches are tired
The dusty bones in the land, the rotten excrement,
With thunderstorms at my waist, I hid my fear and left blank time
Empty bottles of water, houses, roofs of villages,
I took the lurking landscape and re-pruned it again,
I re-brewed the wine, and waited for the brothers to get drunk,
The breath of being tired of life
Love becomes the salvation, when the flower enters the door,
She has the wings of this life's dreams,
The rain was lurking, and I listened for the long night.
Old times
The landscape is gradually aging, and the old water is constantly washing out the folds
When the reeds danced in the air, the earth left the pain of separation to the village
The rain is constantly gathering the tiles of each roof
Fingers burn old courtyards with oil lamps to bloom spring flowers
Countless rains bounced and fell on the ground, like the sound of a lover's piano floating through the window
Young things give the world a dream
Wine needs to be stored, new words are needed, songs need to be sung, and a seed is given to the old time
Then wait for her to plant hope
I'm going to grow older and wait for my kids to wave their hands slowly
I will wait for the spring to sprout, and wait for the birds to sing in the mountain stream
The crossing of the wooden boat follows the footsteps of the walkers
Follow the two sides, the green mountains, the moon
I dream of a distant future. You are the fruit of the green branches of your hometown and the sweet spring of creeping grass
You read in the old days
You release the leaf veins of the plant in the newly excavated soil
(Is there a little poem that makes you feel good and the corners of your mouth rise?) Welcome to the comment area discussion. ）
About the author: Xiang Junying, pen name Quinoa, a native of Yingshan County, Nanchong, Sichuan, lives in Xi'an, Shaanxi. Editor of Yingshan Literary and Art Poetry, Chairman of Yingshan Youth Network Writers Association, Deputy Secretary-General of New Grace Poetry Association, and one of the representative poets of Sun Poetry Journal. In 2008, he began to write poetry, and his works have appeared in various journals and anthologies. He is the author of the poetry collection "Selected Poems of Quinoa" and the novel "Cold Rain Window".