I recited "Going to the Sea in June" in middle school (now it seems that this poem has been included in middle school textbooks, but it was not told in class more than 20 years ago). At that time, I chose a performance version of the song "The Sea, Hometown" as the background and won the first prize.
I think this poem is ok in the sixth grade of primary school.
In June, we went to see the sea.
Pan-Chen Xi
Look at the sea. Look at the sea. We will go far away without camel bells.
The light rain crackled on our bodies and faces.
Just like grandma's nagging reminder when I was a child, we have long forgotten it.
The sea, how far the sea is from us.
But today we no longer belong to children, but only to fantasy.
We are a group of colorful people, and we are young.
Full of energy, always like to be happy all day long, in a hurry.
Like a machine, it goes around the classroom, the library, us and the people we love.
Sometimes we laugh and laugh at dirty clothes to vent our faint sadness.
We often go to the upper terrace to look into the distance, and also look into June.
The wind lifted our long hair and fluttered like a blue Danube.
We, we, we believe in our own steps, just as we believe in the sky.
Although I grew up in a field photo album in the north, there must be the noise of the sea.
See the sea in June. Look at the sea. Let's look at the sea.
We should rest on the beach and let the beach fondle our naked feelings warmly.
Let the boundless sea and sky reflect our inner emptiness.
We are happy to pick up shells that we don't know if we have lost or thrown away.
String them together one by one, string together our shining yearning.
We are a group of arrogant and confident explorers running around.
We always think that we were born with tests and tests.
When we grow up, we don't believe in God, ghosts or even too much childishness.
We, we, we just don't want to stay on the axis of life.
June is our season, and we have been looking forward to it for a long time.
Look at the sea. Look at the sea. Are we going far away without camel bells? Let the wind blow over me.
There is also a cable under the bridge.
A river. How many poplars were alive from the beginning?
The river runs through the whole mountain city with wind.
It also passes through here. I parked my car on the railing.
Looking at the thin river, let the wind pass by me.
Comb the whole body and gently pass through all of me.
Indulge in the long world. The clock and bowl where I eat.
Here we are; Pull up my feet and start walking.
Wind, tear a piece and put it in my breath.
Leave traces for poplars. I took my foot off,
Put your heart here.
Tears weigh heavily on my language.
Tears weigh heavily on my language.
Can't talk. Can't talk
Has been inclusive of everything; Like in tens of thousands of words
Only one word was typed; It's like growing bean sprouts.
Jump out of the old height; Like a beard waking up in spring.
Root jointing But I know what she broke
An old stone, an explosion in the stone.
The sunshine in this old house is like a newborn baby.
Happy and warm. If everything goes back to its original state,
Your uncut heroism and lion-like domineering.
Sandstorm will make your silverware brighter.
Your sword-holding hand looks for enemies in language.
I saw you standing on a high place. Although you are humble
Like a grain of dust
In my lacrimal gland, it will grow into spring.
I was the first time to see the revival of everything on earth.
I bless you with a smile and lips! ? You let the wind pass me.
There is also a cable under the bridge.
A river. How many poplars were alive from the beginning?
The river runs through the whole mountain city with wind.
It also passes through here. I parked my car on the railing.
Looking at the thin river, let the wind pass by me.
Comb the whole body and gently pass through all of me.
Indulge in the long world. The clock and bowl where I eat.
Here we are; Pull up my feet and start walking.
Wind, tear a piece and put it in my breath.
Leave traces for poplars. I took my foot off,
Put your heart here.
Tears weigh heavily on my language.
Tears weigh heavily on my language.
Can't talk. Can't talk
Has been inclusive of everything; Like in tens of thousands of words
Only one word was typed; It's like growing bean sprouts.
Jump out of the old height; Like a beard waking up in spring.
Root jointing But I know what she broke
An old stone, an explosion in the stone.
The sunshine in this old house is like a newborn baby.
Happy and warm. If everything goes back to its original state,
Your uncut heroism and lion-like domineering.
Sandstorm will make your silverware brighter.
Your sword-holding hand looks for enemies in language.
I saw you standing on a high place. Although you are humble
Like a grain of dust
In my lacrimal gland, it will grow into spring.
I was the first time to see the revival of everything on earth.
I bless you with a smile and lips! Let the wind blow over me.
There is also a cable under the bridge.
A river. How many poplars were alive from the beginning?
The river runs through the whole mountain city with wind.
It also passes through here. I parked my car on the railing.
Looking at the thin river, let the wind pass by me.
Comb the whole body and gently pass through all of me.
Indulge in the long world. The clock and bowl where I eat.
Here we are; Pull up my feet and start walking.
Wind, tear a piece and put it in my breath.
Leave traces for poplars. I took my foot off,
Put your heart here.
Tears weigh heavily on my language.
Tears weigh heavily on my language.
Can't talk. Can't talk
Has been inclusive of everything; Like in tens of thousands of words
Only one word was typed; It's like growing bean sprouts.
Jump out of the old height; Like a beard waking up in spring.
Root jointing But I know what she broke
An old stone, an explosion in the stone.
The sunshine in this old house is like a newborn baby.
Happy and warm. If everything goes back to its original state,
Your uncut heroism and lion-like domineering.
Sandstorm will make your silverware brighter.
Your sword-holding hand looks for enemies in language.
I saw you standing on a high place. Although you are humble
Like a grain of dust
In my lacrimal gland, it will grow into spring.
I was the first time to see the revival of everything on earth.
I bless you with a smile and lips!