Ou Zhen's poems are as follows:

Ou Zhen's poems are deeply loved by friends. On October 1st, the National Day is approaching, and the land of China is full of flowers, the home and the country are prosperous, the mountains and rivers are magnificent, and the years are eventful. The Traveler of the Sound once again pushes ten patriotic poems written by Ou Zhen to praise the motherland.

Invited teacher Ou Zhen to briefly outline the original intention of creation

The creation of my "China" series of poems began with "Youth China", which was created in 2 for a theme reading program of the May 4th Party. After 21, I created a series of China-themed poems from different perspectives, such as Beautiful China, Poetic China, China in the Moonlight, China in Autumn, and China in the Snow.

I think it is natural for a poet to praise his motherland in the form of poetry. As an ordinary member of the 1.4 billion people in China, I really feel the great changes in China and the heartbeat of the times, so I can't help cheering, sighing and sincerely praising it.

China by moonlight

I've always wanted to write a poem for China by moonlight. I like her quiet appearance, like her gentle power. In the night, she is wrapped in silver, like countless snowflakes blooming and emitting. The fragrance of plum is like a piece of tea in my hometown, an ancient town in the south of the Yangtze River, and the old street where I once lived.

Soaked in the years like water, even at midnight, under the silver moonlight, there are still tourists from a foreign land on the bluestone board, tasting alone with sparse steps. There is no need to look up at the bright moon in the sky, just look at the flowing water under the bridge through the hair of the willow tree.

The moon will look you in the eye, making you feel heartbroken, and you can't help but linger, the pavilion nearby and the ancient road far away. Those beautiful legends, sincere friendship, pure love, those charming beauties, those parting smiles, are like a piece of Kubinashi music.

I want to write a poem for China in the moonlight, China in the moonlight, and the river flows. White waves splash the stars all over the sky, China in the moonlight, the Great Wall towering, and the dragon stretching across Wan Li. The scales of the brick are shining with silver. If you stand on the wall, you can still vaguely hear the distant echoes, the impact of those weapons, the screams of those horses, the heroes competing for the deer, and the lofty sentiments and happy life.

A brave man has turned his sword into a plow in five thousand years, as if overnight, how many dynasties have been drowned by withered grass and withered young trees. What comes in the bright moon and cool breeze is the prosperity of his home country, and the distant history, when folded up, is just an ancient book in thread, so it is unnecessary to add fragrance to it, because it will be read more clearly in the moonlight.

Because the moon is still the moon, she has been hanging high in the sky for thousands of years. I have always wanted to write a poem for China in the moonlight. This night, I was in Beijing, looking out from the window of a hotel, and I felt China's heartbeat. I saw the traffic, the moon was white and the wind was clear, and the haze was swept away.

I saw the lights of the rising city, dreaming the same crystal dream in the moonlight, and I was looking forward to the birth of a pure new dawn. This evening, in Beijing, I was writing a poem for China in the moonlight. The moon outside the window was rising, like a hanging Yun Fan, and sailed into my heart.