Poetry | Wang Shouhuai: Hometown by the Yangtze River (Outer Seven)

Text/Wang Shouhuai

The river is flooded, and the footprints of youth flow in the damp waves of the old city

White Emperor City, tell Boguang about the departure

Pagoda Ping, riverside fishing shadows dive into old dreams

Lotus pond, navel orange is a flower is also a crop

Yong'an Palace, the Lower Horse Monument and the Great Banyan Tree moved home

At the Great East Gate, Fang Sister of the Tailor Shop got married

On Bluestone Street, the smile that looked back was lost

Immigrants to the new city, Zhuyiba grows vigorously

The sound of the countryside is boiling next to the Chuzhou Avenue

Vicissitudes and strange playmates, cheerful as ever

Drunkenly lying in the poetry city, hide your eyes into the dark clouds

At this time, the water waves are not happy on the surface of the river

The sound of a beeping whistle

Fengjie, People's Square drinks night tea

The evening wind arrives before nightfall

Put the late autumn heat wave and clean it repeatedly

After that, it's time for us to taste the night of poetry

Yangtze River water, boiling night fire twister

Silk bamboo orchestra light smile and whisper people's square

Li Bai Du Fu Bai Juyi and others were raising a toast

Raise your glass and take a sip

We do not invite you to accompany you in the second quarter of August

The moon is like a hook, and it will think of shu Han's orphaned old things

Swallow a mouthful of Yangtze River water, and your thoughts will stop

On the stone ladder in front of the dou gate, my footprints

It has long been buried in the waves of the Three Gorges Reservoir

Tonight's small board table, steaming tea cup always has, a faint hint of fruit

Poetry City Festival

Under the White Emperor City

The white boat had just set off

Between ape chants

The people of Kuizhou released their debut work

It is short and respectful

In front of the door

Zimei looked at the Big Dipper with her back to the isolated city

Boundless falling wood Xiao Xiao flowed down the Qu Pond

The Yangtze River flows with thousands of sails

The melodious boatman's trumpet drifted into the grass hall in the downwind

Outside Yong'an Palace

Dream sadly and lyrically

Pick up a few short sentences, that moment

Bamboo branches are danced through the qu, and pedestrians do not stop singing

Poetry City, a city of poets time of poetry lines, is doing chanting

The top of the Three Gorges

Every morning, Peach Hill

Always with a warm and kind look

Gaze at the life of the ancient city

Red armor white salt, open two doors

Open the Gate of the Yangtze River

A Chinese dragon surged through the Qutang Gorge

Through the hearts of the people of Fuzhou in the world

The wind blows thousands of sails and ignites the fishing fire on the riverbank

The flowers of the branches bloom in the wind

When the golden navel orange began to bow its head in contemplation

The flowers on his face bloomed again

Poetry City, ByteDance

Tang Feng song Song Ya, Tong Qu dance bamboo branches

Early in the morning, depart from the White Emperor City

The sunshine at the top of the Three Gorges is all branched

Three Gorges Original Township

Three Gorges Original Township River Valley

A wine glass fell to dust

Flowed quietly down the chair

Two mountain gates, creaking

The mist in the mountains was blown away by the wind

The sound of the waves between the canyons is silent

The loess wall belongs to the healing system

Bud valley roast and rice wine, the wind is sweet

Dried radish stewed pork knuckle, pickled salt vegetables stir-fried mountain bacon

Fried steamed buns with red amaranth flour and sautéed with squeezed peppers back into the pot of meat

A small mouthful, the product came out of the Three Gorges boatman's number

A rainbow, half a glass of red wine

Splash the mountains and ravines of your hometown

The heartland of the dry gate, instantly

Colorful

Left in the footprints of Tuxiang

A broken wall of the Ming Dynasty

The last tears shed

It has moistened the rebirth of the eastern border city of Chongqing

Tuxiang Town, the rush of three six nine days

Main Street, Backstreet, Blacksmith Street

Someone is haggling for money, selling years

The village where marshmallows float by

Warm black sand soil, grow love

It also grows a plant that calls nostalgia

That year, by the Ink Creek River

Catch the early steps and slap the bluestone slab

Shake the peach blossom fish in the water

Since then, I have been hit by your peach blossom for a lifetime

The wind of Tuxiang Dam

The clouds of Tuxiangba

Squirm among the rolling mountains

Some place names are high-profile endorsements of the wind

High lanai, whirlwind nest, air drying, fresh air trough

The mountain breeze passed everywhere, and the cooking smoke began to fill

The wind of Xiaolongtan, blowing the bell of the Great Dragon Tan

The thin knife beam is like a weather vane

Walk through the Upper Temple Spirit Pagoda

The wind passed through the Tuxiang Dam, and the mud was thin

Foot sockets filled with bluestone slabs

Blacksmith Street, the branches of a thousand-year-old pine

The sound of forging hammers is the wind chime of the world

Booming, clanging time

Less than half a piece of iron on a tile house bag

Rhythmic and rapid class bells

Longquan River, a mirror

River embankment paths are flowing film

The squeaking song on the boardwalk

I couldn't stop the arrows coming from all directions

Flagpoles on the playground, the wind blowing the assembly number

The wind of Tuxiangba moved against the clouds

The clouds rained to the east without a trace, and the clouds were dressed in robes toward the west

Youth past, stay in the mountain village of the farmer's proverb

The sun in Liping Village

In the early morning, the sun in Liping Village is tightly held by green pines and cypresses

The departure of the clouds

The sun squeezes out of the magpie's nest

Small face, blushing with shame

At noon, big tile house

Pulling the sun's beard tightly

Look at the congratulatory speech on the beam in the hall

The cornice is green tiled, and a large umbrella is opened

Beads of sweat covered my father's forehead, and

The sun running west

The cool breeze blows, and the cicadas are tired of singing

The sound of mother shouting to eat

Leisurely

【About the Author】

Wang Shouhuai, originally from Fengjie, Chongqing, now lives in Deyang, Sichuan, and works in Luojiang. He is a member of the Sichuan Poetry Society and the vice chairman of the Luojiang District Writers Association of Deyang City, and his poetry and prose works have been published in public newspapers and periodicals at all levels such as China Culture Daily, Sichuan Daily, Sunset Xia, Jiannan Literature, Poetry, Deyang Daily, Dazhou Evening News, etc.

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