The snow of the New Year has fallen on the white swan group of poems Huang Kui s column 36 .

Mondo Social Updated on 2024-02-05

The snow of the New Year fell on the white swan (group of poems).

Huang Kui

Snow flies white swans

Snow flies down. No one was consulted.

Heaven and earth are tranquil, like a ball of marshmallows.

Snow is a close relative of the Pulsatilla.

but paced the steps of a cat.

With the eyes of an owl open.

The wings of a white swan.

Unfolds since late at night, bringing a fairyland on earth.

Paved to the limitless.

White doves hovering in the sky.

White goose feathers are hurrying in the sockets of their feet.

Even the crows wore crisp white down jackets.

Sure enough, I forgot about the value for money of the black jacket.

Heavy snow fluttering festival.

White swans fly over thousands of households.

The beard of the king of the stove swept the ground.

The white hair of the big year floated into the distance.

The lazy sun is falling on the snowy mountains.

Heavy snow inside and outside the courtyard raised his arms.

Put one village after another.

Quietly escorted to the fairytale kingdom.

Snow falls on white swans

The wax moon is coming. The heavens will not shed tears.

The north wind blows. All the tears were blown dry.

Heavy snow is coming. Goose feathers fell from the sky.

Heavy snow is coming. Plum blossoms will fall from the sky.

It's a big year. The heavens opened their eyes.

Just smoke to the world.

It's a white swan.

Take the kids out there.

The left leads the yellow, and the right is the sky.

Let the fireworks bring the night.

Fry until dawn. Be the first to wade all the way.

Grant yourself the socket of the foot.

Look inside every foot socket.

And are there any white swans flying?

Snow dancing white swans

Whitening the crows.

Not snowflakes. It's goose feathers.

Swallow space.

Not marshmallows.

It's the white swan.

Swollen dogs.

It's not a big year. It's not a down jacket made of snow.

Let the mountain love the short.

It is the wings of snow.

Let the earth calm down.

It's the feet of snow.

Makes the surface of the water thirsty.

It's the ice cream above.

Snow runs to white swans

In the dead of night.

Beijing's Xue'er is plump.

Cher with silence.

Woke me up with a loud voice.

Heavy snow grazes white swans.

Snuggle up in my window lattice.

The first to wake up my dreams.

Cher at three o'clock in the morning.

More punctual than my morning jog.

I took the marathon with me.

Cher with a white swan.

Running into a date at the same time.

The enthusiasm of every snowflake.

Only those who have run with the snow.

in order to deeply understand.

Run to Tiananmen Square.

Half a marathon of snow.

After running half a marathon, I was attached to the big year.

What a well-behaved Cher.

She paced the cat's steps.

All the way to my wild life.

Never give up. The entire Chang'an Avenue.

All that's left is me and the marathon at minus 6 degrees.

All that's left is Cher and the white swan.

When I'm thirsty, Cher gives me a white swan.

Tired of running, Cher gives me marshmallows.

When the run was over, Cher put me in a down jacket.

2024.2.3 in Beijing.

About author:Huang Kui is a member of the Chinese Writers Association, a national first-class writer, a professor of literature, a director of the Hainan Writers Association, a member of the Poetry Committee of the Hainan Writers Association, a vice chairman of the Haikou Writers Association, and the dean of the Hainan Institute of Creative Literature.

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