Author: Tong Anliu 2020-07-22 12:02 Views:22
I think it's good, and I want to appreciate it
Sorrow in your dreams
Listen quietly as some morning light passes through the window
Some morning light came in through the window
A joy sparrow, falling in the treetops, shakes the spring
Some dreams, falling on the mandarin duck pillow, can not be picked up
The wind began to blow into the distance, blowing sheepishly
In your dreams, your city, pear blossoms are like snow
One by one, draped in moonlight, like white clothes crossing the river
I am in Jiangnan three thousand miles yang willow bank
Greet you, greet a long song of the wind and the moon
The sound of the jade flute, there are plum blossoms falling, there are cranes descending
In those years, having been waiting peacefully, the morning rooster woke up the morning light
Then, raise the cooking tobacco as a flag
Order: wheat rod green, cauliflower yellow, peach blossom flowing water around the village
A glass of wine, a cup of tea, relatively peaceful
As soon as the sun was shining, the door opened
The clouds in the dream flew to the blue sky
The sorrows of these years return to your dreams
March
Early in the morning, like a river
Beep the wind flows by
Lights, like countless falling red
March, Peach Blossom Letter
Warm and authentic, with clear blood on the petals
In the spring breeze, there is no hypocrisy
A kingfisher landed on a reed
A kingfisher floats on the surface of the water
The sun fell quietly like snowflakes
The man on the ferry had left
Those who wait for the ferry are still waiting
The days are so slow
It was as if the white-haired mother was suffering from a medicine pot
Honeysuckle, plate blue root, forsythia, herbs
Can cure the disease, do not know whether it can heal people's hearts
Whose small courtyard can not close the pear blossom white
Whose courtyard, no longer rise to blow smoke
Those who are too late to see spring
I send you the spring breeze
A spring breeze of the season
Fall on a willow branch
It's a graceful world
The door of the green grass was open
Wait for you to lift the screen of Aoyama
My heart is blue
Breathe, such as cauliflower yellow
In March, I don't want to be a pretend sleeper anymore
May it be like a butterfly flying over the adjacent wall
Here you go
An old book, turned over and over again
I'm looking
Give you a piece of the old days
Years, dust in the book
And some memories, once the floodgates are opened
It drowned me
Bluestone alleys in March
An oil-paper umbrella
Two people gathered together
Rise quietly, fall quietly
There are strings flowing through the heart
It is the joy of the heart flying out
Some familiar people left
Some strange people came
Only the poems that sing and harmonize
Stay in space-time forever
As soon as I turned back, I warmed my heart once
A small courtyard with a sparse shadow
There are plum blossoms like snow
Carry the spring bag and set off
I'm waiting for you on the mountain road
In a posture of welcoming spring
To you, the joy I have accumulated
Like the countless greens protruding from the earth
Freehand Spring Brocade
Walk a little way, meet a spring breeze all the way
Walk a long way, meet all the way to blossom
Today is your holiday
A spring breeze, women like April flowers, boiling
Or bright, or bright, or dignified, or delicate
It's all love, it's warmth, it's hope
Bend down, in a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree posture, you are the mother
Turn the land over and face the sun
As soon as the spring breeze blows, the land is green
You are as juicy as soil
It is rich in rice, wheat, millet, millet and barnyard
Look up, you like a weak willow in early Spring in February
It's so tender, so soft, so fresh
Goose yellow and tender green dance and change
It is like a cavity gently blowing across the water
It was like playing the strings of the waves of water
Touch Asaka's face
I only wish for thousands of pampering
Like drizzle sprinkles before the flowers fall
The sun falls quietly on your hibiscus face
Listen quietly, the spring breeze slowly blows under the anchovy bamboo
Time is like a flower blossoming
So pure, so shallow, so beautiful, so laid-back
In March, women blossom
Streets, vacated
The sparrows will cry and push towards the clouds
Cherry blossoms shine on a mountain like Luojia Mountain
A mountain, winding like a snake, imposing like a rainbow
Such as the white cloud yellow crane
Lookout, three towns for three thousand years
A river of spring water, hitting the willows on both sides of the river
Under the Yellow Crane Tower, in front of the Harukawa Pavilion, orange island head
In March, Jiangcheng, Plum Blossom lagged behind
Women blossom
Like a ray of sunshine, turning spring on
A sad story, blown away by the east wind
There's no need to close the door and hide your freedom
Let a tuft of green buckle the heart
kite
In the March sky, the sun grew warm wings
The grass lifted its green head
Paper kites glide over their heads like butterflies
The floral fragrance is in the breeze, uninvited
A small vole peeked out of the cave in the spring
A group of children, hugging an "eagle" under the blue sky
The world is fresh and a little scary
The world is fresh and happy
Ploughed fields, spring smoke rises and disperses
Dirt, accidentally left a claw
A group of small swallows flew away in panic
The "eagle" was noisy again
The mother tugged at her throat and called
Huang Chengcheng's chickens gathered around
Mother looked up, over willow bank
One more "centipede", one more "dragonfly"
The father shook his head, this group of children, the meals were cold
At the turn, the peach blossoms fell like rain and fell to the ground
A large pink "butterfly" hangs in the treetops
Never flew again
The wind, boiling hot on some small faces, fell
That day, a small bee flew into sleep
Ask me to go to the spring breeze to pick flowers
Just now, break your finger and pull the line
A snowflake, falling on the eyelashes
If the tears shine
hometown
Eyelashes are raised, and the hometown is dangling in front of you
Childhood dreams are near
The fragrance of a bowl of pot porridge
Chaotian pepper, chop repeatedly
And stinky tofu, red and white, steamed
That night, my father drank two cups of two pots
Keep three feet of snow out of the door
When the rapeseed is hanging on the horn, the roses are opened
Finally, you can stop wearing your mother's torn boots
Tread mud, tread water, catch bees
When the swallows go out, set up a ladder
Count, there are five small swallows in the mud nest on the beam
Painted blue, like my family
The little sister's face seemed to be coated with a layer of apricot blossom rain
The cooking smoke in my hometown seems to have a gust of willow wind
Climbing on the roof ridge, it seems to be half way to the blue sky and white clouds
Dogs are barking more and more rarely
Until, until, silence
The sound of tidal footsteps rose
All in the countryside
Father's purr
Wake up the dream
Reach out, in the dark
Parents, out of reach
Hometown, out of reach
Poet Profile
more>
pseudonym:
Tong An Six
After the 70s, migrant workers, who have been working odd jobs outside for a long time, like to read poetry and write in their spare time.