Author: Xu Zhimo
I have a love.
Content:
I have a love; ——
I love stars in the sky;
I like their crystals:
There is no such strange god on earth.
On a cold evening in winter,
On a lonely and gloomy morning.
At sea, at the top of the mountain after the storm—
There will always be one, ten thousand stars!
The embrace of grass flowers by the mountain stream,
The joy of the children upstairs,
Traveler's Light and South Needle:—
A shining elf thousands of miles away!
I have a broken soul,
Like a pile of broken crystals,
Scattered among weeds in the wilderness—
Sip your immediate attention.
The ice and tenderness of life,
I have tasted it, and I have endured it;
Sometimes the cricket's Qiu Ge is placed on the steps,
It broke my heart and made me cry.
I showed my honesty,
Give love to the star of tomorrow,
Whether life is illusory or real.
Is the earth inside or outside-
There are always stars in the sky!
Age: Modern and Contemporary
Author: Liushahe
Works: That's a cricket.
Content:
Mr. Y, a poet in Taiwan Province, said: "Overseas, when you hear crickets at night, you will think that you heard them in rural Sichuan."
That's a cricket.
Steel wings beat the golden wind.
Jump across the channel
Landing quietly over Taipei
I left it in your yard.
Sing every night
That's a cricket.
I sang it in July.
I sang it with Tang crickets.
I sang it in nineteen ancient poems.
I sang by Mulan's loom.
I rap with Jiang Kui's words.
I've heard of it.
I've heard of it.
That's a cricket.
I sing by the post road in the mountains.
Singing on the beacon tower of the Great Wall
Singing in the courtyard of the hotel
Singing in the weeds on the battlefield
Lonely guests have heard of it.
The wounded soldier heard about it.
That's a cricket.
Sing in your memory
Singing in my memory
Sing the surprise of childhood
Sing the loneliness of middle age
Think of carving bamboo as a cage.
Think of the pager fence falling down.
Think about moon cakes.
Think of osmanthus
Think of pomegranate fruit covered with pearls.
Thinking of hometown, flying yellow leaves.
Think of the residual lotus in the wild pond
Think of Yan Nanfei
Think of the piles of hay in the field.
Thinking that mom told us to go back and add clothes.
Think of the years when I slipped away.
That's a cricket.
Singing across the channel
Singing on this side of the channel
Singing in the alleys of Taipei
Singing in an alley in Sichuan
Singing everywhere
More monotonous than the most monotonous music.
More harmonious than the most harmonious voice.
condensation water
It's dew
Burning light
It's fireflies
Become a bird
This is a partridge.
Crying in the hearts of homesick people
That's a cricket.
Singing outside your window
Singing outside my window
You're listening
You're gone.
I'm listening.
I'm singing.
You should guess what I am singing.
I'll guess what you're thinking
China people have the mentality of China people.
China people have the ears of China people.
1982.7. 10 Chengdu
Age: Modern and Contemporary
Author: Gu Cheng
Works: I am a small town.
Content:
My heart,
This is a city,
The smallest city.
There is no messy market,
There are not many residents.
Cold and clear,
Cold and clear,
Only a fallen leaf,
Just a bunch of flowers,
Hide secretly—
Childhood friends.
My dream,
This is a city,
The smallest city.
There are no strict palaces,
There is no sacred tomb,
Quiet,
Quiet,
There is only a mist,
There was only a breeze,
Still silently attached to-
The innocence of childhood.
Ah, I'm a small town,
The smallest city,
Only one person can live,
My dream girl,
My sweetheart,
My love-
Why not come?
Why not come?
Age: Modern and Contemporary
Author: Gu Cheng
Works: I am a wayward child.
Content:
I am a wayward child.
I want to paint windows all over the world.
Let all eyes accustomed to darkness get used to light.
perhaps
I am a child spoiled by my mother.
I am very self willed
I hope
Every moment.
As beautiful as colored crayons.
I hope
You can draw on your beloved white paper.
Freedom to paint clumsily.
Draw the next picture Never.
With tears in my eyes
A piece of sky
A feather and leaf belonging to the sky.
Light green night and apples
I want to draw the morning.
Draw dew
The smile you can see.
Draw all the youngest
Love without pain
She has never seen a cloud.
Her eyes are the color of a clear sky.
She always looks at me.
Forever, watch
Never turn around suddenly.
I want to paint the distant scenery.
Draw a clear horizon and water waves
Draw many happy rivers.
Painting mountains—
Full of fuzzy fluff
I put them together.
Let them fall in love.
Let every acquiescence
Every quiet spring is exciting.
Be a little flower's birthday.
I also want to paint the future.
I haven't seen her, and I can't.
But I know she is beautiful.
I drew her autumn clothes.
Draw those burning candles and maple leaves
I paint a lot because I love her.
Extinguished heart
Hua wedding
Draw an early-rising festival-
There is cellophane on it.
And illustrations of northern fairy tales
I am a wayward child.
I want to erase all my misfortunes.
I think on earth
Draw all the windows
Let all eyes get used to the darkness.
Accustomed to the light
I want to paint a style.
Draw a mountain higher than the last one.
Draw the desire of the oriental nation
Draw the sea—
Endless sweet sound
Finally, in the corner of the paper
I want to paint myself, too
Draw a koala
He sat in the dark jungle of Victoria.
Sitting on a quiet branch
stare blankly
He has no home.
There is no heart in the distance.
He only has, a lot.
Berry dream
And big eyes.
I hope
think
But somehow,
I have no crayons.
Don't get a color moment.
I only have me.
My fingers and pain.
Just shredded pieces.
Beloved white paper
Let them find butterflies.
Let them disappear from today.
I'm still a kid.
A child spoiled by an imaginary mother
I am very self willed
Is it okay?