Prose poem | Zhou Xiaoping: Sonorous Rose

Text/Zhou Xiaoping

Hello women

You came from the Shang Dynasty, you came out of Yin Ruins.

Standing on Oracle's shoulder, the stars in the sky fell.

Pieces of oracle bones are moving; lines of text are flying. Salvaged, piece by piece of the years of hasty departure.

The solemn scene is like the bride's bun, meticulous. The sacredness of sacrifice is filled with the solemnity of piety, and the prayer takes advantage of the good fortune of the landscape.

The solemnity of the sacrifices, the mystery of the Mass, became the shortcut to dominate the mind. The strategy in his heart also calculated the heat of chasing deer in the Central Plains.

Dancing dragon-patterned bronze cymbals, drunk as a song in nine days. The waving tiger-striped copper cymbals roared against the wind on the top of the mountain where the walls stood.

Wind from tiger, cloud from dragon. The wind and clouds will send out a heartfelt smile in the sky.

Mulan

Chirping, fidgeting in the left ear.

The sound of the chirping sounded as if it were wandering in the right ear.

The machine was panting and shaking with a sigh.

What is vertical is worry, and what is horizontal is sorrow. It was woven with the shallow childish yellow hair of the little brother, and the white hair of the old father was wefted.

The horses of the East City rise from life; the long whip of the North City, the heroic posture of the cool wind; the head of the South City, looking at the distant place where the flames are everywhere; the saddles of the West Market, the singing of the cooking smoke in the hometown.

Wolf smoke, stretching the heart-wrenching alarm.

Guan Shan, gilded like water.

Wind, walking on the tip of the knife. Snow, swimming on the edge of the blade. Bending the bow, it sounded the moonlight in the long sky.

Male rabbit, fluttering underfoot; female rabbit, confused eyes. In the blood of the sword and light sword shadow, how can the angry eyes separate the male and female of the red eyes?

Mu Guiying

A thorny rose, from north to south, wrapped in blood.

In the Nine Dragon Valley, beans are sprinkled into soldiers, and seventy-two Tianlong arrays are set up.

Repeatedly shouting: soft water and warm mountains in the Northern Song Dynasty.

A fiery red sonorous rose, from south to north, burned in a counterattack.

The sword shadow chased after the cloud shadow, and the sword light grafted the sky light. The light describes: the tip of the needle to the Mai Mang.

The wind, being chopped, being chopped, shouting: Pain! hurt!

The embroidered velvet sword flew up and down into Dao Dao lightning; the descending dragon wooden stick did not overturn the gusts of wind and rain. Longtan, swirling dense undercurrents; knife mountain, open guns and cold arrows surging in the sky.

The Heavenly Gate Array was staging a situation of ashes and smoke, and Mulan Guan was now fiercely in front of him.

Long and long, winding journey.

war!

Let the twelve widows line up...

Liang Hongyu

The ulcer of the society is about to be pierced.

Slim jade fingers, tied here, flying needles here, sewing patches of home country.

——Jingkou Huang Tiandang. Gasping for breath, like a twitching bellows.

Time bends here.

Thunderous drums tore at the thunderbolts of the sky; thunderous tides pounced on the arrogant flames of the iron hooves.

With hatred for the trampling, with anger at trampling. Smoke pulled down the long sky, and the fire dragon burrowed into the water. Every piece of fire seemed to be a flame erupting from the eyes; the swaying of every reed seemed to be a standing vengeful arrow.

Hands, rhythmic on the drums. The sound of the attacking wind forced out the cranes that roamed the mountains. The sound of the wind of the attack forced out a narrow string of shock bows.

Intruder, squirming above the bow.

Mrs. Sin

The sword was raised and domesticated into a song and swallow dance. Turn the sword into a sword and a shadow, and transform it into respect for each other.

And the hand of the kiss, friendly stretched out Qin Jin's good.

The journey from the middle of the word to the Virgin of Lingnan is to peel off the childishness and grow up the ladder of maturity. Heroic, so that the surrounding ambitions shrink; Wen Tao, so that the covetous breath to hold. Nanling ushered in the stability of the years, and Baiyue ushered in the youth of peaceful reproduction.

Peace with the hands of relatives, smooth out prejudices, dissolve confrontations, wither hatred.

Peace: Let the spear grow blunt and grow the branches of olives; let the big knife rust and bloom with beautiful flowers; let the bow string become a five-line musical score and pop up the graceful pigeon.

Noah's Ark, from now on, no longer adrift, no more wandering.

Qin Liangyu

Cut the white wood and lift the pole.

Wu hooks the moon sickle of the lower string. At the other end, the iron ring is full of rising sun.

In the name of Chungju, we cast loyalty that can be learned from the sun and the moon. In the name of the stone pillar, it serves as the pillar of the middle stream of the pillar.

The shawl lifts up the righteousness of the storm in the sky, and the hands lift up the collapsed brilliance.

Smoke clouds in northern Qianbei and waves in southern Sichuan! Remember everything: the autumn wind of the Hun River straightens the backbone of the white pole; the frost of Shanhaiguan, the snow white of the Shu Jinzheng robe; the Bagua Strange Array, the thunder of the thunderbolt; outside the Xuanwu Gate, the Xuanwu of the Sichuan Army is veritable.

The general will either die on the battlefield or die in his hometown. And you, with the ancient rarity of the old peach blossom horse in the hometown.

Even death is a posture of immediateness.

Qiu Jin

Sentence: The title is in the heart of Xuankou Pavilion.

Autumn winds, autumn rains, sorrowful people.

Autumn, Yoko chen heart oh! How can the heart bear this long and reckless sorrow?

The autumn rain is like hemp, and the autumn wind is woven conspiratorially. The autumn wind is like a knife, and the autumn rain sharpens the knife. Wind and rain conspire to hit the heart of autumn. Cold, falling, a series of shudders.

Qiu Jin, following the tightening trajectory of wind and rain, fell. Meet the autumn wind, hit the autumn rain.

In order to lift up the land sinking Kyushu, to lift up the sky that slopes the sun, for the mourning hong is no longer everywhere, for the people of Li is no longer hanging upside down.

Stepped forward and blocked the muzzle of the gun.

Block the muzzle that seals the guns that lead to tomorrow.

【About the Author】

Zhou Xiaoping, a native of Gaoxian County, Sichuan. He served in the CPPCC Changning County. He is a member of the Chinese Poetry Society, the Chinese and Foreign Prose poetry association, the Chinese essayist association, and the Chinese poetry society. So far, more than 400 works have been published in many literary journals and newspapers and periodicals across the country, and prose poetry works have been selected as China's annual prose poetry anthologies for more than 10 consecutive years. Published the poetry collection "The Water Line", the poetry collection "That Mountain and the Sea", "Through the Black Hair to See the Yearning", the prose poetry collection "That Round of the Ancient Crescent Moon", "I Am in the Periodic Table of Elements, Looking for Myself", "The World's Century-Year Great Change", the first volume of "All-round and All-angle Panoramic Solution: The Mystery of the United States? "From the West to Chengdu and Chongqing from the South: The Great Rejuvenation of the Nation", the second volume "From History from the Present from Globalization: Looking at the Community of Human Destiny".

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