Is there any modern poem describing the rural rice-planting team?

Da Yangge

The red and green of the suona

Dancing on the drums

Obsessively performing a

Fresh love

The streetlights are obsessed

The stars can't take their eyes off the road

The goat horns are around my father's neck

The mood is even more exciting. The winds are still blowing

The butterflies are flying

The rice-planting songs

Crossing the membrane of specimens

The butterflies of the flowery scent are arriving

Wrapping around my fingertips

Dancing lively and light

Dragging the distant colors of spring in my field of vision. Spring colors

Spring as simple as a printed square scarf

Splendid as a bride's red head

The warp and woof are dyed through

The dots of sour jujubes in the oh-needle bushes are piquant

The blushing flower buds of bitter bitter greens on the elevated bank of the ground

The classic sunshine of the springtime

They have been extraordinarily warmly touching the southern foot of the Taihang River over and over again

This beautiful mountain pass is a beautiful place, and it is the only place to see it.

This beautiful mountain pass

is in love with the fine waves of the Qin River in a flirtatious way

Numerous kinds of countryside flavors

flow along the gullies and ravines like the wind

Greenness covers the village's seductive skin

Pick a blade of grass and chew it in your mouth

and you will spit out a string of beautiful rice-plant songs

Flowering flowers, red buds, red flowers, red flowers, red buds, red flowers, red buds, red flowers, red buds, red flowers.

There were too many flowers and plants to name

There were too many different kinds of rice-planting songs to name

Then the plants had a soil that allowed them to grow wild

Like the reputation of a new daughter-in-law who was the most handsome

The vines spread out to all the neighborhoods

The nights when the oil lamps were in full bloom

The skillful hands that made the shoes would make a long, long song.

The fields were ablaze with fire

The bright chants intoxicated the eyes of the muddy-legged men

The red and purple flowers were native flowers

The rosy springs were fading away

Farther away than the stereotyped New Year's paintings

Occasionally, an old man who sunbathed in front of the village would see a dried flower petal floating in a loose breeze

When a flower petal was dried, it would be a flower petal.