Mother's steamed bun is served on the sorghum book
Hair cakes and buns emit aromas,
The firewood in the courtyard is dry and clean.
The flames licked the bottom of the pot,
The Fire God by the stove has ascended to heaven.
The water god by the well has not yet been sacrificed;
The door god by the door has not been sacrificed;
The smell of gunpowder filled the sky of the village.
Like a deer's child, channeling east and west,
The adults also loosened their nerves,
All hope is immersed in peace.
The taste of the year in dreams,
It lasts with the rings of the year.
(Author: Xu Jingchun)