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Modern poetry praising heroes
Modern poems praising heroes 1

Qingfeng has been stabbed for a hundred years.

In the sound of hooves

History is torn to pieces.

Fly like a butterfly

In front of misty tears and candles

Is the wind blowing?

East wind, west wind, south wind and north wind

Dahai Li

How many inches of waves can it lift?

Besides, the sea is just

Imprisoned in that wine bowl

Let your neck lean back and let your heart rest.

The mountain collapsed and the sea roared.

injured

Tear open a dark cloud and wrap it.

dazzling

Still on that unfathomable ghost

Laughter in heaven and hell.

Even if there is only one breath left.

You can also scream in the sky.

Shake the sky with stars

Submerge it.

universe

Ghostly crying and howling in fear.

The wind and smoke are rolling, singing heroes.

Listen to the surrounding green hills.

On a sunny day, thunder beat the golden drum.

The sea rises and falls in harmony.

People's soldiers drive tigers and leopards

Forget about peace.

Why are the banners picturesque?

The hero's blood dyed it red.

Why is spring always here?

The hero's life blooms.

The hero jumped out of the trench.

A flash of lightning pierced the sky.

Get stuck in a block

The sky is falling, hold it in your hands.

Two feet burning in the fire.

Shine the whole body with a rainbow.

Why are the banners picturesque?

The hero's blood dyed it red.

Why is spring always here?

The hero's life blooms.

Modern poems praising heroes II

The hero's hometown is a red flower,

Wear the mind of the motherland;

The hometown of a hero is a flag that cannot be toppled.

Flying high in people's hearts.

The road to here is very close,

As familiar as the way home;

It's a long way here,

Memories of blood and fire are everywhere

Walk into you with reverence for the mountains and heights!

Walk into you with ups and downs of passion!

The old willows on the roadside are as tall as umbrellas, and there are shades everywhere.

Like a brave sentry,

Guarding this unyielding land;

Jing Quan in the village gurgled, crystal clear.

Like affectionate eyes,

Staring at this land full of blood.

Every door here is simple,

With a friendly local accent like a hero;

Every stone here can talk,

It tells the story of heroes growing up in suffering in the past.

Looking at the statue of the hero,

I asked the sky,

The sky we believe in,

How serious is the haze weather?

Meditate in front of the hero's former residence,

I asked the ground,

Our spiritual home,

How many unpolluted green spaces are there?

Walking on the road where the hero walked, ask yourself,

My steps

Is it still so open, firm and powerful?

Reflect in front of the hero's relics,

My spine,

Are you still so open, selfless and upright?

Hold the villagers' hands tightly,

How many words are there in home?

Sitting on a hot heatable adobe sleeping platform,

How strange is it?

Into you, into the roots of heroes!

Into you, into the land of heroes!

When the hero's hymn is sung again,

Rivers make waves for it, mountains rise for it,

Every inch of land is echoed with burning passion.

A new generation,

Experienced a spiritual shock,

Accepted the baptism of the soul.

The soul of a great country,

Let the world pay attention, let mankind look up,

On the vast land of the motherland,

Endless!