The work of the Mountain Trail Literature Society (carrying on the past and forging ahead into the future).
Time is long snowing
Facing the inferiority complex, Lamei just splashed a few drops of red.
The snow swirling gently in the wind was already unbalanced in the air.
The drinking horse pool flattened the ice blanket and slept peacefully.
The earth was once again pulped into a piece of paper.
The only one who can peck a few pieces of inscription on a note.
Two jumped up from a round stone bench.
Yellow-spotted birds. And this letter from time immemorial.
It was mistakenly demolished by a row of golden eaves on the Red Mansion.
It stumbled and staggered.
Countless hard white whiskers from the bottom of the eaves.
grew out. Overnight through the west gate of Henan University
Three rounds of wine at the east gate of Heda.
Alone, squeezing through the gloomy night.
Ximen's first chandelier with steamed buns and goose eggs.
She was lying on the shoulders of the silver-haired hostess, as if she had not woken up.
Snow left over from wheels on both sides of the street.
sporadically disguised as the soft underbelly of moonshine.
As long as the Yellow River not far away quietly tightened its mouth.
Countless glass windows along the street are whispered by the wind.
It will move from near to far in the snow.
At this moment, let those in the western heavens be left to the severity.
How the sparse stars open their eyes wide.
I can't see it clearly in the middle of the night.
A stranger's sudden sorrow.
Farewell friends by the river
If the brightest part of life can happen to be swept by the wind.
Swallow into a shady valley somewhere.
Then all the things that are forcibly planted into the soil.
It will definitely grow in some sunny spring.
And at this moment, you are carrying a trolley box and walking on the west bank of the Xiangjiang River.
As soon as I turned around, the snow fell from the sky.
I quickly lowered the brim of my hat and dived into the busy world like a crocodile.
You didn't see me, just a glance at the Orange Island.
The reeds that swept away with the wind, even if one of them was full of tears.
It will only be recognized as a lowly one left behind by the frost for a long time.
The Xiangjiang River was silent, but the roar of the train was hammering the skull.
A black goose fell from the sky
Maybe it's because of the cold wind.
Maybe it's just trying to gather its wings.
Block the eyes that are raining tears because of inexplicable pathos.
The snow fell silently
After Qi Niang, the snow jumped down heavily.
This woman who was pried empty by a hoe.
Two months ago, he was lying on the ridge of the field and mowing grass to feed the cattle.
The snow has just been spread to a depth of half a foot, and the martial arts are cultivated.
My cousin grabbed the microphone on the stage with one hand.
Facing the discolored mountains, drunkenly shouting mother.
And the seventh master still can't leave the smoking gun.
Squeeze in and out of the crowd, and pour pigs for a while.
After a while, hang bacon and sharpen firewood knives.
Grab the charcoal fire for a while.
Firecrackers were hurriedly set off for the mourning visitors.
It seems that the pair of withered yellow braids.
will also be after being scolded by him and going out.
He went to his own field next to the sun-dried grain flat to turn over the soil and plant peanuts.
Only the charcoal fire gradually made many misty faces clear.
The singing and dancing in front of the house quietly tightened the back of the house.
The sorcerer's lament, a chorus between life and death.
Where you can't see it, you can do it all over the place.
The snow is blowing heavily, and the night is quiet.
The Seventh Master turned on the electric light.
The bluestone that was moved out of the bed poked one after another.
The rooster crowed three times, the shallow chisel marks.
It's not enough to hold a line of scattered old tears.
He put down the chisel again and again and rubbed his hands.
Trembling again, he continued. This thirty years ago.
A stonemason of a famous party.
Still thinking about using the backbone that he was proud of all his life.
Put the name of the wife from the big ground as hard as copper.
Rescued. Epilogue: "The Wind Blows Through You"..mp4
About the Author: Tang Chenpeng (1994) is a native of Chengbu, Hunan, Miao nationality, member of the Hunan Writers Association, and a student of the 15th Young and Middle-aged Writers Seminar of the **Academy of Literature. His works have been published in "Poetry Magazine", "Star Poetry Magazine", "Hunan Literature" and other publications. He is currently studying at Hunan University (Ph.D. candidate).
(Recommended reading: Click the link Worship the Great Soul on That Long Road (Group of Poems) Mountain Trail Tang Chenpeng
Edited by Xiao Dianqun of the Mountain Trail Literature Society) My New Year's reading plan