Modern Poems about Jiangnan
[share]Jiangnan from Wen Rui'an's collection of poems "Mountain and River Records" Ancient Dancers ...... Lightly Respectable Just how long do we have to wait until the day when the wind and rain come back to us? How long do you have to wait for the day when the rain and wind will bring the old man to you, in this life and the next? Will you wait or will I wait? I have countless feelings of chivalry, all of which are lived in the sound of a single swipe of the sleeve of a robe. Poetry is martial arts, candlelight is dance, and sleeplessness is the miss of a young swordsman. Your gestures are light and beautiful, and you are on earth, but you are not in the human world. My admiration is for the old folding fan, a touch of landscape, and a few brushstrokes of blankness. Ancient Dancers ...... are light and joyful, and today's dancers ... Who looks at you with sad eyes, and I am like a Mongol warrior who shoots at the eagle, and goes away in a cloud of dust. ............ Yan or Khitan, even if they are beggars in the capital, they burn a thousand banners for a dragon banner, and in the snowy fields of the fire, the dancers dance. Dancer, dancer, will you leave me a lifetime of admiration, or will you go with me? My future is full of unknowns, struggles, and struggles, but I'm sure that at some hour of the day I'll be left without myself, thinking only of you, Dancer of the Ancient World. ...... When you lose your footing in your fingertips, lost in thought, and dancing for yourself, do you know how many eyes of love there are outside the window? Do you know how many stars of first love there are in the sky? Natural as green, delicate as red You are a touch of nature, as if the white general wiped When you smile for the smile, smile bent, poor and love dainty Like the moon on my right Wind flow people know themselves, falling flowers more style You love to smile, when you know the wind When you are delicate and timid a look back for fear of a gaze alarmed all of the five mausoleums of the young.
The scholar in the south of the river can be seen, rolled clothes, grinding ink, sleeves, crossed how many lotus ponds to find you? How many times the road blocking the jianghu A fight without a word How much beauty is needed to make up for the completion of how many sudden history You put the poor eyes on me Among the thousands of people, only you know I am looking at you, and only this pair of concentration is to appreciate. Only I know that you are looking at me.
A Jiangnan are laughing A surprise ...... Ancient Martial Artist You have practiced for ten years and read for ten years It is love that is the most speechless If a girl has ten fingers like ten phoenix fairies and a pair of chu-chu and caring eyes What is it if it is not a maiden that is the most beautiful? The Ancient Dancer ...... loves to laugh and be sad, but youth only comes once, once only, in the first time of love, in the short waterway of Jiangnan, in the pond where the three of them meet and walk together, not yet knowing who is the master, this is Jiangnan, with many sympathies and loves, with many flowers, many waters, many willows, many bridges, many embankments, many banks, many voices, and soft words, all of them are Jiangnan, Jiangnan of the little springtime, Jiangnan of the millions of miles away, Jiangnan of the little springtime, Jiangnan of the many years away, Jiangnan of the many years away. Jiangnan, the Jiangnan that the geniuses of Jiangnan couldn't cross, the Jiangnan that they couldn't forget, the Jiangnan that the ancient dancers ...... are so sad, the most beautiful and perfect maiden is often a knife of pain, carving our hearts and minds that are easily shocked and easily pleased, and a single movement is one kind of style, and a thousand movements are a thousand kinds of style, and what is it that's being touched? What is it? When you move a step, a peach and a plum, and wave a hand, a lamp on water, how dare I imagine you in your old age? When you're old, I'll give you a poem, for a maiden can only be a maiden once, and so can a teenager. When you push on the curtain, the fishtail of the smile, gentle and not leap You seem to be angry like Jia, seem to be close like far like anger like forgiveness, I turned on the horse and drove away.
When you are moving, do you know how long it takes? The five night bang bang your song silver zheng, still in the flower moon under the 犹未响起还是犹未散绝 Or simply no one has found? I wish you were the one who smiles, I wish you were the one who is loved, you are the one who is pampered, you are the one who lives in the high mountains and flowing rivers, you are the one who lives in the pavilions. Where do you live? The mountains are connected to the mountains, the water to the water, the rivers and lakes are connected to the rivers and lakes Jasper, my little home, the streams are flowing slowly In the wind and sand, I'll come back to see you when I'm old It's like before the dynamite, the buildings are still standing After the dynamite, the dust settles down, the buildings are extinguished When I recall those times when I was in the mood for love, I was enchanting, charming and dainty but the mountains and the water are poor The mountains have ceased to flow and the sun has grown old I don't know if you're a friend or not When I see you again I don't know whether we are friends or not Are we acquaintances that you don't know or are we not friends that you don't know? I'm not sure if we're friends when I see you again Are we friends you don't know, or are we just friends? Nowadays, on the Jiangnan Road, the sunset is getting longer and longer, and the pedestrians are getting fewer and fewer. There is no one who stops occasionally to look up at the passing clouds and ask, "Is this the Jiangnan of yesteryear, with its many flowers and shade, its many heroes and heroines, and the restoration of the country, with its thousands of mountains and thousands of waters? The rain fell down non-stop more than ...... Jiangnan is a book of silence even if it is nostalgic for Jiangnan has reached the time of no self-help ...... Drafted in 1975, the Jiangnan is a book of silence, even if it is nostalgic for Jiangnan.
2. Modern poetry describing Jiangnan
Jiangnan love By: Xiao Muyu
March Jiangnan, warblers fly grass long Who knocked on the screen window in the dream
Ten miles of the long pavilion, smoke building rainy alleys empty carrying a few charming disappointment
Lonely grasshopper lonely fragrance Who is in the corner of no one's empty sadness
Complaints flute gusting heartlessly dipping into the wind of the sorrowful sadness
The wind of the wind, the wind of the sadness, the wind of the sadness of the wind, the wind of the sadness of the wind, the wind of the wind. Standing on the arch bridge in March, under an oil-paper umbrella
Listening to the gentle sound of the syrup - it slowly passes over my eyes
The moonlit window covered by the bamboo hedge is filled with a line of -
The silhouette of the clanking rings of a dragonfly on the head of your jade tickle.
Just like the rain that wakes up the mulberry buds, I y understand--
The mood of counting the flowers in the window
The plum tree in front of the courtroom has a clear sound of footsteps
The early summer of the reunion has become a lifelong longing
When you open the window, a warbler will sing in the smoke and greenery
The plum rain is a rainy day, but it is not a rainy day.
As the rain falls on the lotus pond, the memories are intertwined one after another
Always leaving behind shallow images
I came along the Grand Canal, where the ice floats, to look for--
The night when I stayed by your side, I didn't want to let my sadness interrupt the rain
A familiar breath can bring back-- the years when we were together. Author: Xiao Muyu March Jiangnan warblers fly grass long Who in the dream knocked lightly on the screen window Ten miles long pavilion smoke building rainy alley empty carrying a few charming disappointment lonely anxious sound lonely fragrance Who in the corner of no one's empty play mourning grievances flute bursts heartlessly dipped into the wind sadness sadness fluttering involved lonely thousands of years of sadness tenderness dark knot lilac flowers fragrance thoughts hidden shot tears light mango love heartlessly play down the dusty beauty met with you in the misty rain rainy season heart Why do you hesitate in front of me without words, when you have a little bit of you in your heart? Throwing away the loss in your dreams, wiping away the disease in your heart, regaining the memories of your past life that have been stranded in the wind, in the soft winds and gentle rains of a hard-to-love relationship - Listening to the rain at night in a small building in the south of the river, in the spring night of a gentle drizzle, in the quiet alleys of the south of the river, the song of the mongolian ghosts drifting in the dimly lit water town like a wisp of smoke, and the thoughts that are hard to cover up, holding a handful of thoughts that I can't find in my heart. It's hard to hide my thoughts. Standing with an oil-paper umbrella on the arch bridge in March, I listen to the gentle sound of the syrup - slowly crossing the curtains of my eyes. The moonlit window covered by the bamboo hedge is filled with the silhouettes of the tinkling of the rings of the belt. On your head, there's a dragonfly in flight, just like the drizzling rain that awakens the mulberry buds. I y understand the feeling of counting flowers in front of the window, the plum tree in front of the court has a clear sound of footsteps arriving, the early summer of the meeting has become a lifelong longing, when you open the window, a warbler sings in the smoke and drops of rain on the lotus pond, and the intertwined memories will always leave behind a shallow image, I came along the Grand Canal, where the ice was drifting, looking for a place to stay by your side, to find a place to stay by your side, to find a place to stay by your side. --I don't want to disturb the familiar breath of the night rain, so that I can recall the years when we were together, but I hope the rain will stop tomorrow, and I want to listen again to the stone alleys in early spring. -I want to listen to the same sound of selling flowers as that of the red apricots.
4. Modern Poetry Describing the Scenery of Jiangnan
The Whispering Jiangnan By: Liao Yongzhi
1.
Waiting for those tiny swallows to fly in from the south
Watching the rain running down the eaves of the house in the spring of April
Watching a child leaning against the dusk and fall asleep in the misty rainy river of Jiangnan
At that time, I brought an umbrella from West Lake and rode the ferry with you.
I took an umbrella from West Lake and rode the ferry with you south
and drifted eastward
in the distant north of my dream, so that you would never again envy the south of the Yangtze River
2.
Watching the curling figures of the women pounding garments in the south of the Yangtze River in my dream
On the banks of the big river and lake, I went to look for those girls and women who had been the scholar and the scholar scout in the boats and boats in the smoky river
The girls and women who were in the boat in the Ming and Qing Dynasties, and the women and the women in the boat in the south of the river in the south of the Yellow River in the south of the Yellow River. Those girls and women in the wind and clouds of the Ming and Qing Dynasties painted eyebrows
wearing the silk of the Jin Guan Cheng faintly sad
(This is the --
Bai Juyi's Jiangnan, the scenery of the old once familiar Jiangnan
Su Dongpo's Jiangnan, chanting the great river to the east to go to the waves of the Jiangnan
) (Li Qingzhao's Jiangnan, the Jiangnan of the first warmth and the first cold)
It was the Jiangnan of many years ago
The Jiangnan that was blown by the winds from south to north and north to south year after year and coldly blown by the winds
It was the Jiangnan that had been shamelessly stepped on by the foreigners
The Jiangnan that had seen the innocent deaths of many in wars
It was the Jiangnan that had been fought over by the warriors that had been left behind and had been charmingly and tenderly dressed. It is the charming and depressed Gangnam that has been fought over
(It is--
The Gangnam of the past, the Gangnam of my soul, the Gangnam of the present
Reconstructed after the pain, bloodshed, and tears
The Gangnam that my fathers and mothers fell in love with, farmed, hoped for, and raised me
It is the Gangnam that has been made dense by the land and the people forever.
Jiangnan
is a land and people, forever dense, nurturing, evergreen Jiangnan)
3.
Jiangnan
ride a fine leaf return
armature of the fallen flowers return
with a piece of scarlet in the black land return
is the return of those who are home of the old tears of the wandering son of the home park
(if you want to
I will take you to the home of the old tears of the old.
I will take you to see the scenery of Jiangnan
4.
Jiangnan in January
I took you by the hand to listen to the chirping of the earth on the cold embankment
In February, the willows of the fields along the banks of the streams began to wake up
In March, they began to put on makeup and went to the tailor's store to cut a suitable dress
In April, they wore beautiful coats of love and affection, and they were very happy.
In April, they put on their beautiful clothes to seduce the boys and men who are starting to grow up
And the birds, the frogs, the flowers, and the grasses are also making a lot of noise
By the time we get to May
, what kind of a vibrant and lively Jiangnan will it be? From one village to another
From one field to another
(Sometimes I'd graze my cows on the mountainside and sit in a fishing boat
Cuddled up to the tender body of my beloved Pink Lady and listened to all the heavenly music
Blowing a xiao and playing a zither
Watching Xu Xian and the White Lady pass me by in love)
When July came, the crops in the fields were ripe.
The crops in the fields are ripe
Gather a handful of rice ears and watch the geese and ducks in the creek singing to the sky
The men, the men drinking white wine
Calling to their wives and children at the dusk table
That's the family enjoying themselves after a long day of hard work
And the figures of the mothers-in-law of August and September walk through the fields and pastures.
The valley and the market, to the evening, as always
warmly lying in the arms of their own men
5. Modern poetry about the water town of Jiangnan
Jiangnan, in the painter's pen, is still that a watercolor painting clear, clean, watery. Roads on the twilight return of the old cattle, cattle on the back of the shepherd boy playing the flute ......
Jiangnan in front of you, is poetry? The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty. The bridge is your tenderness, the avenue highway is your bones. A wide road, the Jiangnan delineated into a huge square book - a masterpiece carefully written by farmers.
A straight road, is an infinite extension of the pentatonic score, all kinds of vehicles is a jumping note, playing a song of celebration of the strong song. Flowing with joy, rolling with passion, singing out of the fire red, out of prosperity ......
The song of Jiangnan - idyllic plus disco!
Looking forward to the snow
Looking forward to the snow is looking forward to your mood.
The south is less snowy. On cloudy days, who stands as
a tree, high on a hillock, waiting alone for the colorfulness of winter.
The wind spreads beautiful lies in the cold rain, and the snow is rejected by the lintel of the season. Every time a thin
frost, always read into your dream of a fine broken back.
The snow is still slow to fall, and the heart is as empty as a bird's wail.
A tree that has lost all its leaves, its pale appearance, makes the whole season lonely and masterless.
Snow falls in Jiangnan
Like a group of panicked birds, white feathers fluttering down with the wind,
the heart fluttering in the wilderness, can not send a moan.
The snow fell in Jiangnan. Many of the pain that is engraved in your heart does not come from the cold, when your gaze towers into a
glacier, the fluttering thoughts blocked all the way back.
It's the birds that fly north and south, bringing me a quiet spring flood,
The snow melted into the shape of my tears.
The beautiful songs in the snow
The beautiful songs in the snow,
These marvelous notes come from the faraway
heaven, and they fall all over the season's tips overnight.
Everything plays the symphony of the earth silently, and sings in unison for the coming spring.
The germs under the snow spring tide.
I am not an audience in front of the stage. My mind joins in the dancing and singing,
and the flurry never ends.
Watching children play in the snow
At this moment, the earth is like a kind mother.
The earth is like a kind mother at the moment. The love spreads wider than the seasons,
letting the children's footprints enjoy writing the happiness and joy of childhood on the snow.
Pile snowmen. Throwing snowballs. Snowball fights. Children's pure eyes and laughter, smoothing out the wrinkles of the soul.
A snowman piled high caught my attention, and I suddenly felt that the snowman was myself,
and soon melted in the sunny world of the children.
Falling snow is silent
Falling snow is silent.
A group of children playing in the snow woke up the sound sleep, and the snow light reflected the morning.
Is it the freedom and joy that fills the sky, shaking the earth slightly, or is it my heart,
longing to fly as freely as the snow.
I saw the earth holding out the holy heart, in the face of the cheering children, still looks incredibly calm.
Into the snow
Into the snow, I am becoming old or young.
If I am becoming senile, why is my heart as light as the flying snow, and the flame of fairy tale burning in my eyes.
If it is to become young, why my temples are gray,
thoughts such as the colorful fall of England.
6. A Modern Poem About Jiangnan
Jiangnan Grass Li Ji
In the autumn when the chrysanthemums bloomed,
I came to Jiangnan for the first time.
Although I was in a hurry to come and go,
but your beauty is a thousand times more than I imagined.
Looking at your city of flowers,
the most beautiful pictures have lost their color;
Walking in the windy and beautiful water town,
that is, recited for thousands of years of absolute chanting also seems pale.
Your beauty makes me feel ashamed:
I can't find a word to describe you in my bag of words.
People say, "There is a paradise above, and a Suzhou-Hangzhou below."
The paradise is just a fantasy that people weave according to your model.
I know that you can not show your magic in the fall,
What I saw was only a grass in your thousands of flowers.
But I'm going back,
I'm going back with this blade of grass.
I'm going to take this blade of grass to the desert,
I'm going to take this blade of grass back to my homeland.
I'm going to plant it on the Gobi Desert,
and I'm going to say this to my folks:
"Water it with our sweat,
and let our Great Gobi become like Jiangnan!"
Dai Wangshu's Rainy Lane is a classic
7. Modern poems with the flavor of Jiangnan, the style is still optional: ancient style, beautiful, bleak
Rainy Lane
By Dai Wangshu
Holding an umbrella, I wandered alone in the long, long
and lonely rainy lane
I hope that I will be able to meet the people I love and I hope that I will be able to meet the people I love.
I hope to meet
a girl with a lilac-like
sorrow
She has a lilac-like color
lilac-like fragrance
lilac-like sorrow
she is wandering in the rain
sorrowful and wandering
she is wandering in the lonesome rainy alley
holding an oil paper umbrella
she is wandering alone
with her oil paper umbrella
she is wandering alone
with her oil paper umbrella
and the lonely rainy alley. She is holding an umbrella
like me
like me
walking silently
cold, bleak, and despairing
She approaches silently
approaches, and then casts a
breathless gaze
she floats by
like a dream
like a dream. She drifted
Like a dream
A lilac
Beside me, this girl
She drifted far, far away in silence
To the dilapidated hedge wall
Down the rainy lane
In the rain's dirge
Dissipated her color
Dissipated her scent
Even her scent
Dissipated, even her
breathless gaze
Lilac melancholy
Holding an oil-paper umbrella, alone
Wandering in the long, long
and lonely rainy alleys
I hope to drift past
A lilac
girl with sorrowful complaints
8. Modern Poetry of Jiangnan
Listening to the snow in Jiangnan (M) The rain came down at dusk.
The rain is like smoke, like flakes, softly whispering. It brushes over the grass and crosses the petals of the flowers.
The end of the dark fragrance, murmuring. (Woman) A few cold rains, broken a ground of residual flowers.
When the geese swept by, listen to your cross flute blowing, dusk in a moment to become a poignant flute. （The first thing I want to do is to get the best out of the world, and I want to be able to do that.
Looking at the geese going south, it hurts. The sound of your laughter, very slight, very indistinct.
(Woman) because like snow, only like winter. But the winter in the south, is rarely see the sky snow drift.
Occasionally a few pieces of snow drifting, such as a shy girl, too late to frame in the memory, will rush away. (Male) I know you like snow, because it is your name, my Snow White.
(Woman) Looking away, the hazy sky seems to hide too much helplessness and sadness. The light blue glass window, was I hehe on a piece of water mist, with a delicate finger in the top of the painting a six-petal snowflake, instantly melted into a path of tears.
(M) you look away from the eye waves condensed into a cold moon, always hanging in the sky over the northern country. I've been looking forward to traveling south like a bird of prey all winter long and arriving at your city.
(Woman) Waiting for a snow, as if waiting for a thousand years of agreement. I've been trying to imagine what it would be like to be there in the winter.
(M) I always want to call your name, but when I call out softly, too much choking from the eyebrows. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to get a good look at this, but I'm sure I'm going to be able to get a good look at it.
(Woman) unruly wind, a little bit of cold, frost dew wet my skirt, also wet my eyes. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to get a good deal on this, but I'm sure I'm going to be able to get a good deal on this.
(M) Yes, the snowflakes bloomed lightly, white and pure, white and hazy. The wind, the strong smell of the earth accompanied by a light fragrance of grass roots and buds.
(Woman) The joyful voice breaks the long silence, slipping through my ears, carrying a wisp of the fragrance of plum blossoms. Is it already snowing where you are? (M) Yes, it's snowing! In the north wind, my lonely feet on the snowy field, stepping out of a line of lingering lovesickness.
My dear, can you hear the sound of snow falling? (Woman) Dear, I hear it, the snowflakes are fluttering their wings in the most primitive color, I like to hear the rustling sound of your feet as you step in the snow. (M) Opening my arms wide, I butterfly in the snow with a twirling gesture.
I vaguely held your hand again. (Woman) hanging on the wall of the snow in the north of Serbia, swept over the rivers and mountains, a large piece of the fall, dyed my world into a piece of holy.
(M) in this colorful extravaganza, I want to fall with the wind, lying in your dancing and dancing between the skirts, listening to the cold plum season of blooming. (Woman) I know, you want to scoop up a handful of snow and ice, let me feel the charm of winter.
But the frosty cold came to my heart. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
(M) Oh, you have been looking forward to the snow in Jiangnan, I want you to hear the snow. The first thing I want to do is to make sure that I have a good understanding of what is happening in the world.
(Woman) ah, dear, you know, that rows of birch trees also let my heart drunk. I want to get drunk with you in the snowy mountains, so that the body and mind in a moment beyond the world, into the earth.
(M) Let the snowflakes fall on your shoulders, and turn yourself into a white sculpture in the snow, and then you will have a fairy tale mood in your heart. (Woman) Hold your breath, I also heard the singing rushing under the ice, like a little lyrical poem, I know, that is the fairy tale you planted.
(M) Dear, I want to take you to the frozen lake to listen to the music of the sky, where many unspeakable secrets are hidden. (Woman) My heart has already escaped from my cold body, and flew to the intersection of dreams.
My dear, you can see my skirt flying in the snow. (M) tilted his head, snowflakes one by one slipped through the cheeks, as your delicate hands gently slipped through, each snowflake is you, my Snow White! (Woman) Can you hear the sighs of the dead leaves crossing the street corners in the wind? That's because, outside the fairy tale, I'm not a princess, and you can't be my prince.
(M) Dear, come close to me, my arms can bend into angel wings, guarding the winter fairy tale. (Woman) But the cold wind always blows down the full heart, just like this unmanageable snowflake.
(M) Dear, walk along the euphemistic Jiangnan, the footprints that reach the dawn is our fairy tale! (Woman) Yes, dear, for a beautiful legend, I waited a thousand years in the moonlight! (Man) Dear, because of the waiting, the night sky has added a beautiful legend. (Woman) Listen to the boiling snowflakes and all the verses related to love bloom quietly.
(M) Dear, do you ever know, those scattered lines of poetry are due to you, the tide of the light and the seasons of the psalm. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
(Woman) ah, that piece of crystal snowflakes fell on the face, instantly turned into water droplets, flow through the place to leave a piece of heart music, that is the spring tide in the echo. (M) want to bloom buds are knocking on the window of spring, each so proud to look up with a smile, that is the power of a winter of savings.
(Woman) In a trance, scissors like figure, cut out a line of return love. In that falling red, there will no longer be Hyun (xuan4 gorgeous) tears.
(M) Dear, the snow is still flying. I'm going to quietly cover your eyes from behind, so that your heart to carefully enjoy the painting and poetry, until the daybreak.
(Woman) You say the snow is still flying? I want to find out the long-lost paintbrush, to copy this copy of the delicate, hanging in my sky. (M) My dear, put your hand in my palm and write our fairy tale together.
The fairy tale has snow-white Jiangnan. (Woman) Yes, I put my hand in your palm and write our fairy tale together.
It turns out that the snow-white Jiangnan is in the palm of your hand. (M) Dear, I believe we will be like a fairy tale, happiness and joy is the end.
(Woman) My dear, we live happily ever after, just like in the fairy tale.
9. Modern poems about the water town of Jiangnan
Jiangnan, in the painter's pen, is still that a watercolor painting clear, clean, watery.
The old cows on the pathway of the twilight return, the cow on the back of the flute playing the shepherd boy ...... before the eyes of Jiangnan, is the poem? The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty. The bridge and water is your tenderness, the highway is your bones. A wide road, Jiangnan delineated into a huge square book - a masterpiece carefully written by farmers.
A straight road, is an infinite extension of the pentatonic score, all kinds of vehicles is a jumping note, playing a song of celebration of the strong song. Flowing with joy, rolling with passion, singing a fiery red, said prosperity ...... Song of Jiangnan - idyllic song plus disco! Looking forward to the snow Looking forward to the snow is looking forward to your mood.
The South is less snowy. On cloudy days, who stands as a tree on a high hillock, waiting alone for the colorfulness of winter.
The wind spreads beautiful lies in the cold rain, and the snow is rejected by the lintel of the season. Every time a thin layer of frost falls, it always reads as a broken back in your dreams.
The snow is still slow to fall, and the heart is as empty as a bird's wail. A tree that has lost all its leaves, its pale appearance, makes the whole season lonely and without a master.
Snow fall in Jiangnan, such as a group of panicked birds, white feathers floating down with the wind, the heart fluttering in the wilderness, can not send a moan. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
Many of the pain is not from the cold, when you look into a glacier, flying thoughts blocked all the way back. It's the birds that fly north and south that bring me the spring floods that quietly return to the green, and the snow melts like my tears.
The beautiful song in the snow The beautiful song in the snow, these marvelous notes from the distant heavens, overnight fell full of seasonal tips. Everything is silent, playing the symphony of the earth, for the coming spring to sing in unison.
The buds under the snow spring tide. I am not an audience in front of the stage.
My mind joins in the dance and the singing, and it never ends. Watching the children play in the snow at this moment, the earth is like a kind mother.
Love stretches wider than the season, so that the children's footprints in the snow to write the happiness and joy of childhood. The snowman is a snowman, and the snowman is a snowman.
Throwing snowballs. Snowball fight.
The children's pure eyes and laughter, smoothing out the wrinkles of the soul. A snowman piled up high caught my attention, and I suddenly felt that the snowman was myself, and soon melted into the sunny world of the children.
Falling snow is silent Falling snow is silent. A group of children playing in the snow woke up the sound sleep, and the light of the snow reflected the morning.
It is the freedom and joy that fills the sky and shakes the earth slightly, or is it my heart that longs to fly as freely as the snow. I saw the earth holding out the holy heart, in the face of cheering children, still seems to be incomparable calm.
Into the snow Into the snow, I am becoming old, or young. If it is to become senile, why is my heart as light as the flying snow, and the eyes lit up with the flame of fairy tales.
If it is to become young, why are my temples gray, and my thoughts are as colorful as the fallen stars.