Chapter 5 1971

What is that, far away... It's autumn wind chasing fallen leaves It is the spring rain washing the green branches It's the low footsteps of snow water flowing through the window Is it the poplar sighing slightly through the autumn night? What is that, far away... It's the waves of water It's the tide It's the roar of tigers and leopards Is it the flash of thunder and lightning? What is that, far away... It's a neat ensemble of frogs is the monotonous short song of the bees It's the noise of the city's wings Is it the hustle and bustle of life? What is that, far away...

It's the shaking of the eardrum the thunder of the waterfall It's the sparrows talking about the morning in surprise Is it the jackdaw's sad farewell to the dusk? What is that, far away... It's the mechanical beating of life It's the sparks splashing from the anvil is the laughter of coals in the fire Is zinc and copper melting together? What is that, far away... what is it, far away I can't hear clearly in my dream... Summer 1971 nameless little flower wildflowers, star, dot, like a lost button, Scatter on the side of the road. it doesn't have chrysanthemum

curly blonde, no peonies beautiful face, It has only tiny flowers, and thin leaves, put a faint fragrance Melt into the beautiful spring. my poem, Like a nameless little flower, With the seasons of wind and rain, quietly open in lonely world... 1971 life fantasia Put in a long and narrow shell. A canopy made of willow branches, Xia Chan's long cry was also lingering. taut the mast line The wind blows the sails of the morning mist, I'm sailing. no purpose, Ripples in the blue sky. Let the sun's waterfalls, Wash my skin black. The sun is my tracker. it pulls me,

rope with glare Step by step, Twelve hours of travel. I'm pushed by the wind east to west, The sun disappears into the twilight. night is coming I sail into the harbor of the galaxy. Thousands of stars look at me, i left Crescent Moon - An Anchor of Gold. dawn, The sea is crowded with cloudy icebergs, bumping, "Boom" - thunder and lightning! Where am I going? The universe is so boundless. With golden straw, woven into a cradle, take my inspiration and heart Put it inside. Buttoned wheels, let time drag Go say hello to the world. wheels roll Among the grasses of thyme and wild chrysanthemums.

crickets welcome me Vibrating the strings. I dissolve hope into the fragrance of flowers. The night is like a valley, The day is like a peak. sleep!close your eyes, The world has nothing to do with me. time horse, Collapsed. yellow-tailed waxwing, Nest in my car. I still have to walk the world on foot— Deserts, remote corners of forests. The sun burns the earth, Like toasting a loaf of bread. I am walking, Bare feet. i put my footprints Stamped across the earth like a stamp, the world melts into my life. i want to sing a human song, Thousands of years later Resonate in the universe.

Returned from Weihe River in the midsummer of 1971 i praise the world with the song of bees, dance of butterflies, and flower poems. moon, lost in the night sky, Like a pebble. constellation, scattered in the night, Like tiny golden sands. With the wind of summer night, Come wash it! You will get the splendor of the universe. take the shepherd boy A prairie-like dark green short song; put the hunter Forest-like rich fantasy; take the farmer Joy as golden as ears of wheat; take the fisherman Hope that is as transparent as water; ... All the world: oceans, mountains plains, rivers,

Put the seven states: morning, evening, sunrise moonset, From life, from sleep, into the lava of thought, condense into my bright as the dawn — poetry. neither can move forward nor want to step back. dig a pond, Store up the flowing water of fantasy. In the fallen leaves of childhood, Look for golden cicada sloughs. I love my dreams, it's like spring warms my heart. my heart constricts, Like a stone sinking to the bottom of the water. my heart swells, Like a balloon rising into the blue sky. Take the sun and the moon, Blending the future with the past, Like lightning fireworks that shatter the night sky,

Turned into a wonderful wave of light. morning is here I know and start singing that again Tasteless song. Dreams dissipate like fog, Only the bewildered dew drops remained. the morning of the years Holding a paintbrush of seven colors of light, On the palette of the earth, Preparing the morning light of spring; to dry yellow branches, Coated with newborn emerald green; On the staves in the field, Rewrite the music of life. Wow, one after another, Praise of spring-- The morning of the years. Summer 1971 stone shore The cold wind drives clear waves, The waves rushed to the crooked stone shore.

A pale green sprout in a crevice of stone, Tenaciously unfolded the small leaf petals. beggar You give me money and I praise you with my lips. You give me sympathy and I praise you with my heart. Summer 1971 Awake You blow my dreams away? The winter jasmine shines, The wild bees buzzed. I want to be like the earth, sleep forever, Let the fragrance of summer night, Drowning the intoxicated mind. No disgusting cock crow, tear it all apart, I closed my eyes It is night, and there is no dawn, too tired don't float Let everything sink deep in the heart of the earth. The sun warms the blood,

my life, with invisible keys, Turn on the phantom sound of nature. Ah!on the prairie Filled with dreaming stars, is the veil of morning mist, sunny velvet Wipe the dew to sparkle. mid-autumn essay one Through the inclined gourd rack, The night sky casts a dark blue cold light. A spider crawled near the moon, Silently weaves the web of its life. The moon floats on the pond in late autumn, A breath of wind will also blow its full sorrow. Only those withered poplar leaves feel pity, Gently float beside it. two I have countless golden dreams, Lost in the way of life. Is it not as cold as the moon and stars,

Although far away, it is also long. three The autumn wind extinguishes the candle of fantasy, It turns into a wisp of light smoke and floats towards the Milky Way. In the dark, the road is rougher, Disappointed clouds dim the moonlight of hope. landscape The waves start to run away. The storm raised the pirate sails, The rain nets salvage the world. Bubbles like cheap pennies, Randomly thrown away by the reef. The boat straightened its mast, Say the last prayer. The sun has not yet retired, Another smirk... river (one) Thoughts gradually become weaker, flashing blue, like a weary candle. the source of my life, In the night, in the dream, undercurrent in the stratum. In that melting blackness, it seems to have stopped, But the song of time and water, It spreads endlessly... the fragrance of early spring, Soaked with sandstone and gravel, Thus, the earth revived in the waves. Faintly, Seeps like morning light, Glittering like dewdrops... Ah!waking wind, Blowing for a long time Jinxia, ​​a horse of Qingbo... It plays in a tent of clouds, Sliding over the back of the rainbow again, At last poured down from the heavens, Flooded all sand plains and deserts in the world. What is it? yes…… Oh, it's me, is the river of my life. river (two) ringing in the grove; The waves are shaking one after another, west slanting sunlight; Even the color of the moonlight, Diluted the majesty of summer, The fine sand is still hot with residual heat. The autumn insects were singing softly. Me and Yue, floating in the river, What a companion they are, Glitter in this pale night. ... the shadow of the village, floating on silver waves, It doesn't matter, There is light in the shadows, See that campfire lit with hope. Microwaves pat, pat... pebbles covered with green moss, Inhale the glorious heart. Wave Shadow disappeared into the misty distance. starry sky, It's all in my eyes, both tell me: the way, And that long— rain dream from the rain, Fly into dreamland. In the feeling of being slightly curled up, There is a small lake, Floating full of flower tassels. I carry a homemade bow and arrow, wearing sandals, Glide at the poles. cicada sound On the sluggish memory, Draws out fine lines. a set of distant perceptions, that's it, wrapped around my heart. the first cry, and the final interrogation, Same, no reply. Roaming (1) buy a glass of coconut water; On the icebergs floating in Antarctica, Capture the dazzling aurora; By the springs of the desert oasis, Write letters to distant places with ostrich feathers; In the uninhabited coniferous forest, blow the melodious reed flute; In the crowded and noisy streets, Reunited with my schoolmate from twenty years ago; By the anthills of the savannah, Play chess with new acquaintances; On the huge boulders of the rubble, Boil a pot of strong, sweet coffee; By the flat shores of the Red Sea, Open a can of delicious sardines; In the narrow hut in Changbei, Steamed thick corn and yellow rice; On the banks of the Xiangjiang River in Changsha, Peel Hunan tangerines. Roaming (2) the waves of the East Sea, Suzhou fields, Qingdao's beach, the riches of the motherland, natural beauty, Engraved in my heart. The volcano erupted, the snow melted, Springs gushed in the wrinkles of the rocks, Splashing waterfalls connect to rainbows in the sky. Picking up a piece of rusty iron, Light the fire and hammer it, Make a nimble carving knife, Sculpture words and language. dim moonlight, Sleep soundly under the artistic coconut tree. surf chase, Drink in the sea of ​​literature. full moon Behind the shadow of the cloud, your plump and round face is exposed. I drifted across the deserted road to you, You are floating high in the night sky. By the pool, I found you, How much laughter is rippling in the water. Suddenly the silver wave condensed into muddy water, Hot tears scalded my eyes. When the cock crows, you go, I don't want to drink any more of this dark sorrow. Only a grated heart remains, Listening to the singing of mosquitoes sucking blood. noon The sun scorched the back The halo expands and tightens Green Ping also began to wither Hope is like a thin cloud shadow pursuit will tear it apart shining light surrounded by smooth tears windmill The countryside is desolate. a small pinwheel, On the whitish grass. The wings of the wind are still spinning, Changing colors of hope. It is deceived by the breeze, Chasing the sunset in vain... Through the blank winter, It's early spring time again. All things sprout from ice and snow, Restored the memory ideal. Then the pious windmill, Only the bones are left floating around. Migratory birds fly by, No one looks at it.