Chapter 4 1970

diary for 4th january To catch up with the rapids of time, Although so hard, Still left far behind. The boat of my diary, Why is it slower than Baiyun? Because it likes to rest on forgotten sandbars, Or swirl in a meditative vortex. I can't do anything, Had to dock on the fourth day of the voyage. 1970 start has disappeared, wide world, become clearer. life-- A drop of dew dissolved in a mountain spring, on rough roads, bubbling joyful foam, Singing the song of hope... July 1970 wild bee Build clever buildings on bamboo branches, Spring gives it inexhaustible energy,

Beautiful dance, bathed in golden light all over the sky. The drizzle washes away the dust in the air, In the dark, the mead spreads bursts of mellow fragrance. The wild bee begins to sleep in the sway of the wind and rain, With infinitely sweet dreams. August 1970 river in winter Hundreds of large wooden boats lay horizontally; They seem to be tired, Showing a broad back, basking in the sun... How vast! No vocals. river bank, Blooming with dazzling ice flowers; on the sandbar, Covered with the footprints left by the waves, - fine lines; The rusty anchor reclines, Waiting for the green wave of spring.

The frozen river is blue; A cloudless sky is blue; what a pure color, The sun moistens the skin of the earth. carpet-like sandy beach fast asleep it is beautiful, But not - a flower of life 1970 Glue the world together. Stars mixed with candlelight, The Milky Way is connected to the canal, our little hut, Became the neighbor of the Moon Palace. Go drink a cup of sweet-scented osmanthus tea! By the way, I have an account question. 1970 spring equinox clinging to the earth —this opaque glass. The sun with its flaming broom, sweeping away— The footprints of ice and snow in winter.

1970 evening Put away the last ray of floating light, sinking into the ocean of sunset. fading fantasies, like the setting sun, Still burning in distant villages. 1970 old tree (one) The flowers that gave birth to youth have withered; Stretching out its rotten arms to heaven, Ask the sun for its last warmth. The storm swept away the only yellow leaves, The cold snap brought the sky full of ice and snow. Like worms in its bony muscles, Start hibernation peacefully. It bends its wrinkled body, to the long years, with a trembling voice, Tell about your suffering. Letter to Father, August 14, 1970

old tree (two) old as hell Scary dark at night. to scare us, We're so close, so close, It's not happy. "I know your grandma, I told your grandfather, uh-huh……" we are silent we listen Like two good children. wild goose (one) A group of wild geese flew. They surround me; They circle above my head; They wave to me in friendship; They speak a language I don't understand; Finally flew away with love—— Far away, far away... Turned into a thin thread floating in the sky. So I remembered again—— partner from the past. Spring 1970 wild goose (two)

why are you still flying Is it because of dry branches? Is it because of the thin ice of the pond? Wild goose, fly away; Don't hover, don't stop. Please tell the loving spring, Don't forget the fishing village here. In 1970, a letter to Uncle Xu new home But the rooster sings of the dawn in the still night. Suddenly awakened fire jumped out of the furnace mouth, Scared away the stars watching in the crack of the door. January 1970 mountain stream into the river, The green spring silk, drifting in the muddy current, should sigh it Lost her pure nature? it should still be congratulated

Escaping wandering and dying? morning (one) The clear dawn at the corner of the morning window Young aspen whispers in caress Serious sparrows are discussing on the platform morning (two) red eyes, sweep the earth. everything is there Stand still in silence. Only a newborn dewdrop, in the sun, Boldly analyze. diary for 4th january I use the pulp of my pen, To catch up with the rapids of time, Although so hard, Still left far behind. The boat of my diary, Why is it slower than Baiyun? Because it likes to rest on forgotten sandbars, Or swirl in a meditative vortex. I can't do anything,

Had to dock on the fourth day of the voyage. 1970 start golden childhood, has disappeared, wide world, become clearer. life-- A drop of dew dissolved in a mountain spring, on rough roads, bubbling joyful foam, Singing the song of hope... July 1970 wild bee In the morning, with the nectar of flowers, Build clever buildings on bamboo branches, Spring gives it inexhaustible energy, Beautiful dance, bathed in golden light all over the sky. The drizzle washes away the dust in the air, In the dark, the mead spreads bursts of mellow fragrance. The wild bee begins to sleep in the sway of the wind and rain,

With infinitely sweet dreams. August 1970 river in winter on loose sand, Hundreds of large wooden boats lay horizontally; They seem to be tired, Showing a broad back, basking in the sun... How vast! No vocals. river bank, Blooming with dazzling ice flowers; on the sandbar, Covered with the footprints left by the waves, - fine lines; The rusty anchor reclines, Waiting for the green wave of spring. The frozen river is blue; A cloudless sky is blue; what a pure color, The sun moistens the skin of the earth. carpet-like sandy beach fast asleep it is beautiful, But not - a flower of life.

1970 Village night thick night, Glue the world together. Stars mixed with candlelight, The Milky Way is connected to the canal, our little hut, Became the neighbor of the Moon Palace. Go drink a cup of sweet-scented osmanthus tea! By the way, I have an account question. 1970 spring equinox Concave mirror-like sky, clinging to the earth —this opaque glass. The sun with its flaming broom, sweeping away— The footprints of ice and snow in winter. 1970 evening golden sun, Put away the last ray of floating light, sinking into the ocean of sunset. fading fantasies, like the setting sun,

Still burning in distant villages. 1970 old tree (one) The fountain of life has dried up, The flowers of youth have withered; Stretching out its rotten arms to heaven, Ask the sun for its last warmth. The storm swept away the only yellow leaves, The cold snap brought the sky full of ice and snow. Like worms in its bony muscles, Start hibernation peacefully. It bends its wrinkled body, to the long years, with a trembling voice, Tell about your suffering. Letter to Father, August 14, 1970 old tree (two) old tree old as hell Scary dark at night. to scare us, We're so close, so close, It's not happy. "I know your grandma, I told your grandfather, uh-huh……" we are silent we listen Like two good children. wild goose (one) from far away, A group of wild geese flew. They surround me; They circle above my head; They wave to me in friendship; They speak a language I don't understand; Finally flew away with love—— Far away, far away... Turned into a thin thread floating in the sky. So I remembered again—— partner from the past. Spring 1970 wild goose (two) Goose, come down! why are you still flying Is it because of dry branches? Is it because of the thin ice of the pond? Wild goose, fly away; Don't hover, don't stop. Please tell the loving spring, Don't forget the fishing village here. In 1970, a letter to Uncle Xu new home There are quiet dreams in the quiet night, But the rooster sings of the dawn in the still night. Suddenly awakened fire jumped out of the furnace mouth, Scared away the stars watching in the crack of the door. January 1970 mountain stream blue mountain stream into the river, The green spring silk, drifting in the muddy current, should sigh it Lost her pure nature? it should still be congratulated Escaping wandering and dying? morning (one) The morning breeze washes away the night and the dust The clear dawn in the corner of the window Young aspen whispers in caress Serious sparrows are discussing on the platform morning (two) sun-- red eyes, sweep the earth. everything is there Stand still in silence. Only a newborn dewdrop, in the sun, Boldly analyze. summer pure white clouds stepping out of the woods shyly into the swaying river hazel sand dunes wearing a bathrobe waiting on the shore breeze The breeze gently pushes the snow-white clouds Oh, the white clouds turned into swans in the lake Wandering gently, can't touch a ripple. clod The clod acquires life and strength. Though they lie on the ground and sleep, But the seeds of spring germinate and grow in the heart. desert The hot wind drives the crescent-shaped waves, Waves rise and fall into a sea of ​​gold, How many lost lives the sea has swallowed, Every life becomes a grain of quartz light. 1970 forget Dim yellow incandescent iron, dark red hot copper, cooled off covered with rust, Like chunks of dirty ice. how many years ago the glory of the years, silently suppressed, bottom layer of memory.The brilliance of years ago was silently suppressed at the bottom of memory. 1970 rejuvenation white snow, turned into black fertile soil; caramel-colored dead branches, turned into green trees. spring is back, She melted the snow mountain— These icicles before the door, with warm fists, knocking on the gates of the earth. two thawed banks, fermented in the sun, Weeping willows topple in the breeze, There is a tall poplar beside it, Opened an affectionate embrace... three The long wicker is soaked in water, Swaying a trace of silvery Bowen, The fish dived in panic, With old fishing marks. And little trees, And that dark river. The city can't walk, just had to wait, The lights are all sleepy. why are you laughing? Is to learn the moon? Night clouds just passed by... cut the grass I use a scythe, grass on the beach, Always so short. bunny, eager to dig a hole; old fat pig, Hungry to hit the fence, The grass is that short. not dry, The pot light is smoking; The shop is not thick, The hen does not lay eggs, The grass is that short. You take the big basket, I take a small basket. grass on the beach, Forever so short! return from mowing look at the sun, the sun is gone, The red clothes were left on the grass beach. it's you singing, It's the song that sings you, Small wild chrysanthemum by the grass basket Looking down at the road... Rose Not thus turned into thorns, It just defends its spring flower, Not to be ravaged by wild beasts. aloe flower walking quietly raindrop get pecked off on the treetops birdsong? blades of grass shake no, it's feathers books Carefully wipe off its dust, to let it shine forth with newborn flames, Preserved in the depths of the mind... metal strikes, the spokes of the wheels, In the symphony of life, And the silent roar of thought. Tighten your shoelaces, Smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes, To the first ray of dawn, Open the door of thought. There are quiet chapters here; Here is a beautiful spring scene; Here are the dim illustrations; Here is the light of the times. have profound words; have cold words; with hot words; Poetry with shining lights... Describing a noble smile; Sinister whispers were recorded. an ordinary book, Tell you the secret of life. fell the tall banyan tree, Gather smooth and beautiful jade. To build the spiritual world, To shake the ugly hell. walk toward the light, Scrubbing his soul. With determination and perseverance, Throw away the shadows behind you. our lives, With its light, with its heat, our society, Sail toward the sun, Future and hope—— Is the magnetic needle by which we sail. . 1970 return (1) The sunset is still waiting. a long shadow, To the quiet village. The old man's ox has returned, Pull ancient vehicles. inscription (one) The rudder should be straightened, Can't be for the wind, into the vortex. and put it aground, as a precious rest, Just look at the proud sail shadow, Go with the waves. inscription (two) can catch the boundless waves; with sails, can catch the invisible wind; with love, Can catch untraceable dreams; use money, Can capture the ruthless heart. polite I always search silently. being contested, I always sneak away. when surprised, I said: This is polite. friendship I know flowers will wither I see "friendship" like pure snow i know the snow will melt I see "friendship" like fragrant wine i know wine goes sour I see friendship like immortal gold I know the price of gold recall Floating a line of wild geese; the faint cry of the wild goose, Into the sloping goose circle; geese huddled in under warm wings, Thinking back to the distant spring. 1970