The sky is as people wish,

Remnant flowers are also romantic,

Standing on this high hill,

Looking at the great rivers and mountains of the motherland,

The red and green are the carpets of the earth.

The spring of the warbler song and swallow dance,

There is no trace of Ru for a long time.

A round of bright sun shining in the sky,

A few puddles of clear water are coming,

The silver shines,

It is the blood of the earth,

A river that flows long.

It has never stopped for thousands of years,

Give everything,

Nourishing all things in the world,

Until exhaustion,

In the mud of fusion,

turned into a puff of gas,

This is where you end up,

Perfect and immaculate.

If there is no breeze blowing,

Sweaty people,

hid in the pergola early,

Gulping down watermelon,

Wipe the beads of sweat from your forehead,

Look at the tired tree.

It was a kind of helpless happiness.

Galloping horses,

Looking for a place where water and grass are luxuriant,

Stop and look back,

Looking at the place where his companions are going,

The aquatic weeds there,

It must be more luxuriant.

The ribbons that swirl and dance,

It must be a highway that stretches into the distance,

The car is galloping,

Streckless,

Like a flock of sheep dotted on the steppe.

The melodious singing of the herdsmen,

Slowly,

It's a pure natural sound,

It is between heaven and earth,

The most unpretentious movement.

Chapter 134 of "Ma Ping'an Poems": New Style Poems Viewing is in the middle of the hand, please wait for a while,

Once the content is updated, please refresh the page again to get the latest updates!