夜半鸟鸣
The night was as silent as a huge black cloth
The soft waves of birdsong glide across the cloth
It also crosses the emptiness of my heart. It's both real and illusory
It's like a small whistling as a child
A code to call me out in a corner of the earthen house
It is as if the sacred bird travels, and its song is like a jade flute
The sound of flying flew into the night sky. Such as saxophones
The timbre is soft and calm, like a spring breeze
Gently soothe my lazy thoughts
Like a fairy song in the dark night, it is mellow
The fog filled my heart
I heard it in the middle of the night
Collect this sound and store it in your memory
Try to imitate it with a whistle
Walking in the woods blowing
I hope that there will be a voice to respond
Late at night, blowing out the window
The darkness of the night is boundless
The sky above me was as still as empty as my heart
Life is bumpy, loneliness and frustration are coming
Drive away the birds of the boundless darkness
It gives me joy and strength
The flowers are old
The sea of flowers in spring is like a spring tide
The plain orchid set off the first wave
Since then, wave after wave
Rape flowers in the fields, pink and white butterflies
Small boats bobbing on the golden waves
Peach blossoms and plum blossoms render a sea of flowers
One of the most dazzling pictures
Birds marry their daughters in the sea of flowers
It's like the first month of the world is busy
Follow in the footsteps of peach and plum
Thousands of trees, pear blossoms, snowflakes
It seems that there is another spring snow in the world
The so-called sea of flowers is actually all flowers
A grand wedding with the spring breeze
When the flowers are scarce, spring is old and decrepit
The green fruit that probes the brain of the branch probe wants sunlight
Feeding, summer is on the way to come
Qingming fruit
The most is a lump the size of a green-shelled egg
There is an endless stream of incense
The taste buds have been growing memories for 50 years
It is the Qingming fruit of relatives who came from the county seat
There is tempting bacon in the green fruit
I tasted it for the first time when I was ten years old
Vowed to grow up to be a city man
Taste the delicious fruits of the city
The green fruit is round, and the taste is round
Eat all kinds of green fruits in the city
The taste is back to the size of a quail egg without filling
I overflow with the spring taste of tender green rattle
Life is like a green fruit, turning around and returning to the village
The taste buds are linked to coarse tea and light rice with the smell of firewood
Grave
Qingming tomb sweeping, you will prepare a few days in advance
Piety is like every entrance exam when I was a student
Even if it's a rainy day, it's a wet mood
Even if the sacrifice is heavy and the wrist is fighting
The footsteps are also unwavering towards the cemetery
I just want to be relaxed like a white cloud in my heart
I always feel like my soul has always been
And they figured it out, this point
The blood that flows tells you vividly
When I arrived at the cemetery of my ancestors, it seemed to have arrived
They feel like home. You will reverently pull it out
Paper money, flowers, will be the thorns of the grave
Thatch removal is considered cleaning
The cemetery is another home for the ancestors
The heart is not scared, but also different kind and warm
The monument chattered for a while before leaving with confidence
Take a look at the graves around you
Those are their neighbors
A firecracker exploded and drove away
Wild beasts and wild spirits come to rob the sacrifices and drive away the ghosts in their hearts
If
If only I could still be ashamed of the recklessness I had accumulated
I am saved, saved by enlightenment
There is a fifteen-year-old full moon in the empty heart
Even if you walk on a dark ancient winter night, there is a heart lamp
If I walk, I'm afraid of stepping on ants or grass
I am saved, saved by goodness
Every life is a gift from the Divine
Even if the road of life is tortuous and uneven, it can go far
If I speak with a tongue that hurts someone
I will be saved, saved by cultivation
The spring breeze is the master key
Even a little bit of high explosives can make a difference
If I'm meditating in peace
I was saved, saved by the literati
They were like churches I passed by
Even if you are as stubborn as a stone, you can understand the sermon
The glyph is the left and right legs of the person
The backbone is like iron, and the head is like a mountain
The pen is sluggish, and the word "person" is not easy to write
nostalgia
Like a centenarian with baring teeth and bald vicissitudes
After a hundred years of wind and rain, the old house was finally dismembered
Pillars, doors and windows, large granite statues
The pretty girl married away from home and became someone else's mother-in-law
Homesickness is like a cloud floating in the sky, homeless
Eight years, like a stray dog, slowly growing old
Wandering at intersections, in fields and on broken walls
Also wandering in my dreams. Plaintive eyes
It's like a needle, and I can't bear to see it
Build a thatched hut before the cold winter
Homesickness has since had a new home cat winter
Strangely, it never appeared in my dreams again
But I went back and forth every once in a while to look for it
Homesickness is like an interesting book, recording ancestors
The story of your fathers and you
When you have nothing to do, take it out to read and bask in the sun
lily
At the beginning of summer, you open in a corner of the vegetable patch
Under the early sun, in the breeze,
The petals are dripping with crystal
Shimmering like a lotus flower
Just like the pink and tender of her daughter's childhood
The face blooms with a smile
A house was planted on the vegetable field
Thy pure whiteness is open only in my heart
The vegetable market has two baskets of big white flowers
The little trumpet wants to tell the tragedy
Without fragrance, it is yellow like a disease
Or even know that you have to get out of the pan
Looking at the corpse of the lily with his head in his head, his eyes were teary-eyed
There was a phrase that crossed my mind: good stuff
It is often eaten by the pig's mouth
An old man in the dark
The clock repeats its old nine o'clock
A cement worker as black as a cricket
Melts into the darkness of the night
Aggravates the melanin of the night
But the lamp above tore apart the night
Kouzi, polishing the cement road that was paved at dusk
The sudden sound of a diesel engine breaks the night
Serenity. 200 yuan a day to light up his heart
Bright, the child has not yet married a daughter-in-law
He had to get over it. bride price
It's a math problem for Dorianga, he has to
Answer with blood and sweat with your son
The jacket looks like it has just been fished out of the water
It had just rained on him
Talk about his craft
There was smugness in the old man's tone
There are his footprints in a radius of dozens of miles
At half past nine, the stars and moon in the sky came
Replenish the light, crickets beautiful songs
Drive away his tiredness, and the breeze also
Be empathetic and brush away his sweat stains
At ten o'clock, he returned in the night like a mountain
I don't know what a person can bear
No matter how much suffering, his back is hunched
Labor will draw him in a semicircle
Like an old ship rocking in a sea of people
Fate doesn't care about a person's weight-bearing
When he collapsed like a dilapidated old house
The suffering accumulated in his life is like manifestation
Genes will be passed on to the next generation
Love without a trace
Loving someone is not the same as possessing it
Like a spring breeze Buddha over the earth
The earth is full of flowers, and sometimes the wind passes without a trace
Like the sun ripening rice and wheat
It was harvested into the warehouse, and the sun was as hot as yesterday
Like autumn after painting a golden landscape painting
Silence and give up your seat to the bitter cold of winter
Like winter snowflakes, falling on the tips of her hair and eyebrows
The snow covered her in a thick layer, and she didn't know it
Women are sensitive fawns
Don't step on the red lines of the world
The red thread is fire, and your heart will be lit
Memories are like a dog
Memories of my youth are like a dog
Wander in deserted villages
I always want to have a house, even if it's a straw hut
Let the memories warm and the old soul rest
The former homeland was weathered by the wind and rain of the years
razed to the ground, grass, trees, and thorns grew wildly
Become a hot land for snakes and rats and a thorn in the heart
A red house planted with red bricks and red tiles
The soul of the family is hidden deep in
The sun shines brightly
The dog that has been wandering for many years (Cui Weiqun)
Squinting and curled up in the doorway
Author: Cui Weiqun, a native of Bailu Township, Chongren, Jiangxi, born in 1964, has been engaged in news reporting for many years, likes poetry since childhood, and has learned to write in the past two years.