San Mao's poem about Hoh Xil 1. Ask for a poem about Hoh Xil.
Return peace to Hoh Xil.
( 1)
Have you ever heard of Hoh Xil,
There is cold and thin air floating there.
Have you ever been to Hoh Xil,
Vilen is full of aura.
This is a forbidden area of human life,
For thousands of years, it has stubbornly interpreted the miracle of nature. This is a sacred place,
Primitive ecology is like a pure and beautiful girl.
This is a paradise for plateau animals.
There are charming Tibetan antelopes.
How I want to see heaven,
Set foot on the blue ridge of the plateau.
How I want to walk into Hoh Xil,
Deeply into her lonely and empty arms.
Ah-
Lovely Hoh Xil,
How I want to hear your calm breath.
How I want to see you-a smile in my sleep.
(2)
Did you hear,
Hearing the bleak wind in Hoh Xil,
In the face of the brutal slaughter of poachers,
Blood-red sunset will also cry sadly.
Did you see that,
Seeing the tragic death of Tibetan antelope in Hoh Xil.
Seeing a dead body in the wilderness makes you tremble,
The land under the bones was dyed red with blood.
I looked painfully at Hoh Xil in the distance,
She is no longer a beautiful girl.
Raped and ravaged by human desires,
Even tears can't wash away her holy body.
The sky sighed heavily,
Looking at poor Hoh Xil with tears,
The earth roared with the wind,
Sincerely call for defending our Hoh Xil.
……
Gather our anger,
Catch the killer,
Butcher, you put down your evil weapon,
Return peace to Hoh Xil.
With our love,
Closed solid shield,
Stop evil from attacking nature,
Also Tibetan antelope is a vibrant land.
Ah-
Lovely Hoh Xil,
Return peace to Hoh Xil.
How I want to hear your calm breath.
How I want to see you-a smile in my sleep.
2. What are Sanmao's poems? Please attach the complete poem.
Looking at the sky, the rain is so salty. Are there any tears in it? The wind blows the leaves away. Who knows who I am? Thank you for spending the days with me. I will keep this memory in my heart. Some words are not important, and some things I want to forget. If I were a few years older, would you stay with me? If I was born a few years earlier, would we still be together? From now on, we will never meet again. After many years, I don't know who will accompany me. ...
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There is no red rose in the world/who cut her wrist with thorns on her stem/blood/tears dyed this white bud red/from then on/whenever a heart breaks/a red rose blooms on the ground.
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There is no red rose in the world/who cut her wrist with thorns on her stem/blood/tears dyed this white bud red/from then on/whenever a heart breaks/a red rose blooms on the ground.
3. Are there any ancient poems that can praise the writer San Mao?
My daughter always says that life is not about length, but whether you live happily. I think this statement is: truly grasp the meaning of life and live. At this point, although I was heartbroken by her burning, I agreed.
-San Mao's father Chen Siqing
In my mother's eyes, she is ordinary, but she is just my child.
Sanmao is a pure man. In her world, she can't stand being false. It is this kind of truth-seeking character that makes her live very steadily. Maybe her life and her experience are not perfect, but we can be sure that she didn't escape her fate, and she faced life bravely.
-San Mao's mother Miao Jinlan
Sanmao once said that she envied my love with Qin and Han dynasties and wanted to find a partner who cared about herself and could talk to her at work. Unfortunately, she failed to find the ideal object. She still misses her dead husband very much. She is too careless to protect herself ... I once advised her not to be too headstrong, even if she doesn't care about her body, she should take good care of her body for her parents.
-Actor Brigitte Lin.
Sanmao is not a beauty. She is tall and has long hair, and she wanders around the world with books and pens. Young, strong and lonely, Sanmao's charm to young people in Chinese mainland is beyond anyone's imagination. For many years, everyone has been talking about Sanmao everywhere, and I am one of the readers. Art exists by conquest. I worship Sanmao, a real writer.
-Writer Jia Pingwa
Some nouns with beautiful meanings become vulgar when used too much. Talented people and talented women walking around the street is an example, as is the strange girl who frequently appears on the screen. Originally, I didn't want to put this tacky title on Sanmao, but there is no more suitable description. Let's call her a strange girl. The positive meaning of "strange" should be "maverick". According to Ci Hai's explanation, it is also called noble and unwilling to go with the flow.
-Writer Liang Yusheng
Sanmao is very friendly, but I have a bad impression of her. Sanmao said that she was "not a person who likes to talk in a box", but I think it's just the opposite. I think she has been fiddling with her box all day, and this box is her repeated love story, with Foucault as a white tiger star, Bai Yunxiang as an escape from the world, leukemia as an international route, and feelings overflowing like boiled water. If Sanmao is a beauty, maybe she can have a lingering romantic aftertaste, because this is the privilege of beauty. But Sanmao is obviously not, so her "beautiful" love story is too much for her. ...
-Writer Li Ao
If life is a cloud, its beauty, its brilliance, its changes and its drift are all natural, just because it is a cloud. Sanmao is like this. With her misty life, she unfolded into an arbitrary image. No matter how she feels about life, whether it is sweet or sad, she has no intention of affectation. Between the lines, there are silent songs everywhere. We can hear that kind of song with our hearts, which is as beautiful as nature. People who are bound by civilization are often accustomed to worldly triviality and get lost unconsciously. Reading Sanmao's works, we find a world created by life, like a blooming flower in the desert. She values life above the common customs, which requires clever wisdom and great courage.
-Writer Sima Zhongyuan
Many people criticize Sanmao and think that she is just dreaming in her own small world, but I don't agree. Basically, literary creation is the highest expression of a person's sublimation. If she can sublimate such feelings, it shows that she has such a level, much higher than many writers.
-Actor Hu Yinmeng.
San Mao's outlook on life is different from that of ordinary people. She believes that there are two forms of life: the body and the soul after death. She rationally chose to pursue the second stage of her life. We should respect her choice and not be too sad. Sanmao must have her reasons for choosing suicide.
-Writer Ni Kuang
There are no ancient poems and sentences, but people's comments.
4. Who wrote the love poems in Hoh Xil?
Yang Jiuyi's, right? Hoh Xil 1 I wander in the hair of the night, and the darkness devours my eyes.
You, the only direction. Give you a thrill and knock on the dawn.
Climb up and arrive. Your holy eyes reflect the warmth of nature.
The aroma permeates the crisp milk of roses. A hunter, like a poet, grasps the bright spot of inspiration and always waits for the appearance of prey.
Perseverance, sensitivity and accuracy. The prey arrived as scheduled.
Load, load, aim and pull the trigger. The prey fell, the forbidden fruit of Eden fell, and Venus fell to the ground.
Cupid's arrow is aimed at you. Two nights, stand up step by step.
On the battlefield of love, I only believe in persistence. On the battlefield of marathon, there is only the distance between heart and heart. Miss the height of Mount Everest and find you in the mountains.
Cross the ocean and sprint between the morning bell and the evening drum on the horizon. At night, sit, lie down or lie down.
I choose to go against the wind. Blow away countless notes, flying in the Milky Way, scattered into stars, cold and lonely in the night wind.
The wind touches the sleepless night, and a mysterious thing covers the whole body, naked and unrestrained. Chasing time flies, can you come quickly? Love is in love, and missing is missing.
Talk to you, ask questions, seek, love and expect. In the early autumn morning, your smell came into my sight.
This is by no means an accident, but an eternal oath made by Pangu when he opened heaven and earth. At present, the eyes are melting into a whirlpool at the same time, accumulating into an immortal legend and staying in Philip Burkart for a long time.
You, through me-from birth to death. The lingering sadness of the second opening is inspiring and can't restrain the burning of thoughts.
Words, actions, actions and stops are so gentle, and every action releases the surge of love. Draw a knife into the sky, and the courage of love can be learned.
The sword hangs to the ground, and the heart of love is just soft. I miss being so quiet and let the noise float in the mountains.
Bathing in peace leaves eternal melancholy and confuses day and night. Wandering behind the years, the shadow is blurred, hiding tired soul and body.
Cold comes and summer goes, flowers bloom and flowers fall, stick to the direction you come, and I believe that one day you will open this door. With the constant tenderness in the sunshine, rain and snow.
Pour a nice song. The notes drown the footprints behind you step by step, and you lose your way back.
At the end of noon, the dawn holds your bright eyes and surges. The beauty of mountains and rivers and the love of flowers and willows are inseparable in your eyes.
Stop in the fleeting time, torture fleeting time. Cut the lonely passage, time disappears at the end of the season, and the ending withers.
The warmth of drifting away solidified at the end of the moon, jumping with wordless persistence. I am very sad and frustrated.
Stay alone in the carefree scenery and hit the heart. Curled up in a dark dream, I jumped on the tide of my first love without fear, and the sound of the waves filled me.
Drunk and hazy. I happened to meet a series of solemn days, and sparks collided in my emotional space, shining every inch of silence in the universe.
Stay close to you and keep loving. In a hundred years, only you planted my dream in your heart and gave birth to the big dream of life.
7 Walking through footprints and pursuing your footprints lead to lingering thoughts and rust. What did the tracks hear? Meditation: I only belong to you, bloody rose.
When your eyes blink, it is a spring that warms the branches of the seeds of love. Eight fingers of rain, stroking my cheek; My finger can't wipe away your tears, but it overflows.
Drowning the world I love. Cut out your heart and lungs.-you treat me.
I'm not afraid of death. It was an unforgettable parting, and the pain filled for a long time, day after day.
The smell of blood and gunpowder spread. Ah! I have to believe: you are the dream lover! Who is 9? Knock on a door, enter my heart, and arrange the first love of Eden at the fastest speed.
Growing like crazy. Adam and eve.
A fire of first love, burning the clear sky. Happiness is like a shadow, like tea, and it is mellow for a long time.
Holding your hand, growing old with your son ... 10 Autumn rain, pouring the bitterness of tears, deciphering the love between Abelard and Eloth. Floating into the autumn night, intoxicated, intoxicated with the moon
Leave a string of undeveloped passwords on the tracks. Remember to adopt
How many poems did Sanmao write?
San Mao's poems
(Not many, but there are more than three. Here are three. )
olive tree
Don't ask me where I come from.
My hometown is far away.
Why are you wandering?
Wandering in the distance
loaf about
For the birds flying in the sky
For the mountain stream.
For the vast grassland
Wandering in the distance
And And
For the dream olive tree.
Don't ask me where I come from.
My hometown is far away.
Why are you wandering?
Why are you wandering far away?
For the dream olive tree.
Don't ask me where I come from.
My hometown is far away.
Why are you wandering?
Wandering in the distance
wait for
You waited and waited under the olive tree.
I am wandering in a distant place, wandering again.
Life is a hidden dream.
To make up for regret
Whenever the moon is full.
I worship the olive tree alone.
You won't come again, I'll wait.
The longer I wait, the more I love.
desert
The hometown of past lives was presented to us.
Ah, yellow sand cloth.
When I'm when I'm
Bound by the world.
Wandering heart, slowly here.
The slowly falling dust gathers together.
The howling wind in the sky
Take the road that you can't go back.
The earth has just handed over its secret.
At that time, the desert was no longer just a desert.
Desertification into a well, and the well is in it.
A pair of watery eyes
give a smile