The most beautiful encounter
- To the Iraqis
Missing is a happy sorrow.
Waiting is a sweet expectation.
It's a cold night in the snowy season in the north.
I stood in front of the window.
Let your thoughts wander.
Thinking of you quietly.
When I miss you. Take all the mundane trivial.
Woven into a thick book of poems.
Attached is my most nagging instruction.
When we look forward to seeing each other.
I will inscribe you with a name that is not poetic.
This life and the next life. Day in a dream.
I'd like to have that beautiful encounter.
It becomes the most affectionate and simple poem.
Be the beautiful and lovely dish in your eyes.
The purest scenery.
Please embrace spring
Snow is the waves of the sky.
Rain is the spirit of moisturizing things.
After the rain. **Immediately.
The material of the cold spring is steep.
Still can't stop the spring from budding.
and the grass of the weeds.
And you are spring.
A begonia tree in full bloom.
I'm just an old tree.
A lonely tree that does not shed its leaves.
Reminiscing about the past, thinking about the world is long.
Please give spring a hug.
Keep the love alive. There are no favorites and no exceptions.
A hundred years of solitude.
I've got a welcome campfire ready.
to celebrate our encounter and reunion.
Bless us in camp life.
I hope it will be at dusk.
Recognize you at first sight.
I prayed for rain. Rain is the most affectionate blessing of spring.
Rain is the best bodhisattva in the world.
Dusk
Dusk slowly falls down the treetops.
Only the gasp of the east wind was heard.
I'm alone.
Under the gaze of the dim street lamps of the small town of Shonan.
Take a stroll. There is the occasional whistling of a small car.
There is the speed of a wild cat jumping across the road.
Dead trees on the side of the road have sprouted.
is whispering with Kaoru Wind.
At this moment, Yi Yi turned around.
Just met the shy moon of the new year.
Affectionate. I want to talk about it.
All the way. Let me understand the years.
How desolate life is without you.
Touching that never leaves.
How can it be forgotten. You are the love of my life.
The home is sheltered from the wind and rain, and the warm eaves.
There is no confession of affection.
The deepest happiness.
It's to be by your side.
If love is like a ray of moonlight.
How many long nights.
It's just because of you.
Spring is not far away
The great cold has passed, and May 9 is coming.
The snow is still thick.
The sun is getting brighter and brighter.
You're sneaking me in.
This is not unreal.
Spring is winning the sky.
Thoughts converge into a stream of remembrance.
Growing up to become my beloved hometown, Xiaohe.
A river of clear water wrinkled by the wind.
It reflects the countless roads back to their hometowns.
Meandering. Like the face of an extremely old man.
The middle of the moon in the north.
In my stiff body.
The notes of spring have quietly sprouted.
was laughed out loud by Ha Liu.
It's a lonely morning.
Let people taste drunk beauty.
In winter, I meet spring
Thick snow.
Repeatedly covering the vastness of the earth.
The winds of deep winter are raging uncontrollably.
I want to get into the deepest part of my soul.
The morning light in Urumqi is being lit up with longing.
Fly the path at 4 o'clock and a half.
From the cold north.
Crossing to the beautiful Sanxiang.
Around the corner. Xiaocao is subtle but enthusiastic.
Bow your head and gesture to me shyly.
The years are twilight. The year of knowing the destiny of heaven.
Returning from a long absence.
The smell of wine fills the sky over the city.
Familiar and unfamiliar.
The enthusiasm of catching the wind and washing the dust.
One after another. Daoists held up a pot of old wine.
A blazing flame burned in my heart.
Stand in the room tonight.
Ren Chunchao was born secretly.
I was silent.
Holding a bouquet of flowers.
It seems to be holding a purple and red spring.
Only time and the universe are waiting for you
Time and the universe who can wait for you.
I kept asking.
Know what the dawn represents.
The twilight is vast and misty.
The desolation was so heavy.
What is the meaning of life.
What is the eternity of love.
Only time and the universe are waiting for you.
Spinning and struggling.
And not just the stars in the sky.
There is also the mundane and daily life of the world.
Rustic vs modern.
Savage and civilized.
The sober sighed.
One era collides violently with another.
Refracted in the cellar well, they struggled with each other.
A man of his senses.
Fall on thorns and rubble.
Ben is a deeply wounded person.
The night gave me black eyes.
I didn't look for the light.
But he thinks about the permanence and impermanence of life.
Heaven and earth are boundless. Only time and the universe are waiting for you
Quiet
Put a quiet and lonely face.
Freeze on a sheet of oiled paper.
Gu Ying spoke to herself in self-pity.
Savor the joy when you are alone.
The best way to appreciate the beauty of life.
The grass and trees outside the window are tilted.
Hint at me. There was a strong wind blowing.
Birds flying past the window.
Probably fast. But it's almost gliding.
From bustling to silent.
From the hustle and bustle back to the quiet.
It declares the tenacity of life.
The twilight is heavy and the world is wide.
A cold plum blooms quietly in the night.
Lonely people are lonely.
Those who are not lonely are not alone.
Life is calm and calm.
The years are beautiful because of the quiet.
Plant chrysanthemums in the heart.
I am empty because of the silence.
Dead leaves
A leaf dies of a west wind.
From west to east. From south to north.
Bring the hustle and bustle of the earth and the lonely sky.
Intersecting prosperity and desolation.
also to the bare and lonely branches.
The wind blows the leaves and withers I don't know how to count.
No one is new. It's just the same as ever.
But I rejoiced.
It was withered by the cold wind.
Then it was spring.
Autumn rhyme
Autumn rhyme is wanton in the wilderness.
The past on the ox cart flows with the passage of time.
The ears of bent rice and I snuggled up to each other.
The hard-working old father is as tough as a scalper.
The peppers are bright and red.
It was a good harvest that my father had bought with a lot of sweat.
A wooden oxcart that carries a lifetime of food and clothing.
Swaying out the colorful light and shadow of a small mountain village in Shonan.
The west wind, full of the flavor of the story.
Caressed my face.
Blowing into the heart, inducing people to get slightly drunk.
Father slightly hunched back.
Wide and thick.
Withstanding the wind and frost of the years.
with life waves.
It also brightened up my childhood.
Fields, silent and empty.
I'm in the northern city.
Deeply reminisce about the scenery that is not dazzling.
Think of the distant and familiar old things.
Father's back.
Long and firm.
Imprinted in my heart.
Memories become everyday in an instant.
Sunset, leap over the horizon.
Gradually moved away from the ox cart.
But he still walked alone.
Father is like a mountain. Always guarding us.
Late autumn nights are slightly cold.
Quiet, deep and serene.
We fell asleep in our respective cities.
Golden autumn, that's my father's season.
A good harvest is in sight.
Hope is everywhere.
The ox cart is still the stage for my father's loneliness.
interprets his mortal stories.
and his legendary century.
This frost falls. I'm the only one who remembers and thinks about it.
The other side of life
Holding the thin and cool smoke and rain of the clear autumn.
I didn't know that I was already drenched with clothes.
Wake up in the morning and stroll through the capital.
The slippery bluestone-paved winding path.
If you're not careful, you could fall off.
A one-sided boat rowed hard across the river.
It is also possible to encounter sudden wind and waves and encounter the ship's overturning.
The journey of life will not always be beautiful and light.
There will be a moment ahead.
Many difficult challenges and turbid waves.
The wind and rain see the rainbow.
You know, that's actually the other side of life.
Please enjoy this heavy but beautiful bumpy road.
I have tasted all the sweet, sour, bitter, spicy and salty tastes of the world.
It is the taste that is getting stronger and swaying.
A recent photo of Xia Zhenxiang).
About the Author:Xia Zhenxiang, male, born in the Year of the Tiger, from Hengyang, Hunan, pen names Shi Ran, Lu Zhong, member of the Chinese Prose Literature Association, member of the China Prose Network, member of the Hunan Writers Association, ** The 13th Young and Middle-aged Writers Class of the Academy of Literature in 2014 and the 9th Xinjiang Writers Class in 2020. Since childhood, he has been influenced by the family style to love the country, intoxicated with joy and tireless, and is good at the creation of ancient poetry, and is the author of many dictionaries and prose works such as "School Dingming", "Finance and Accounting Fu", "Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps Fu", "Ancient Garden Fu" and so on. He has published hundreds of articles in various newspapers, magazines and literature, and now works for an organ of the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps.