Dong Chunze s poems and songs, poems about the sun

The sun is everyone's.

The sun that rises from the east mountain of Lu'an is about to set when it reaches the west mountain.

The white clouds in the western sky turned into a red sunset.

She sprinkled golden light on the flowers, she pulled up the little trees high, she played with the children in the fields, and watched them raise happy waves.

The sun is about to set over the western mountains, and she will go to another country while we sleep, where there are also children and flowers.

I know, there are little children and flowers.

I was looking forward to her in my sleep, waiting for her.

Smell a lot of poetry.

The sun sings the sun, the sun that pierces my heartache!

forced away the wanderer's dream of returning home, and added him twelve hours of nine songs!

O sun, the sun that burns like fire!

Dried the dew on the tip of the grass, but dried the cold tears of the wanderer?

O sun, the sun of the six dragons!

If I don't have to take this day of probation, why not run five years in one day?

The sun, the swift bird, the sun!

Let me ride you around the earth every day, and you will be able to see your hometown once a day!

O sun, the new rising sun in the corner!

Didn't you just come from our East?

Is my hometown still safe at the moment?

O sun, the sun from my hometown!

The official willows in Beijing are wrapped in autumn, right?

Alas! I'm as haggard as late autumn!

O sun, the sun that never stops!

You feel like you're homeless.

Yes! Your life and mine's life experience are just as unimaginable!

O sun, the sun of self-improvement!

The Great Universe may be your hometown.

Might indicate me the direction of my hometown?

O sun, this is not like my mountains, sun!

The wind and clouds here have a different color, and the birds here sing a particularly bleak tune.

O sun, the sun of the fire of life!

But who doesn't know that you are the lover of the eastern half of the ball, and at the same time the wisdom of the western half of the ball?

The sun, the sun of my hometown!

At this moment, I can't go back to my former hometown, so I will recognize you as my hometown and compensate for the gains and losses.

O sun, the sun that shines brightly!

When I see you in the future, I should go home once;

My home is not on earth, but in heaven!

It can only be said that some poems belong to ancient poems. But ancient poems shouldn't be counted.

Belong, poetry is a form of poetry.

First there is a song, then a poem, and then a word.

"Lisao", "Will Enter the Wine", "Spring River Flower Moonlight Night", "Water Tune Song Head", "Facing the Sea, Spring Blossoms", "I am a Wayward Child", "September", "Autumn", "A Flowering Book".

Do you need the content of the poem?

"The Book of Songs", "Lisao", ***'s "Qinyuan Spring", Shu Ting's "To the Oak Tree", Ai Qing's "Dayan River - My Nanny", etc., are all very good.

"Guan Ju", "Lisao", "Will Enter the Wine", "Ascending", "Nian Nujiao, Chibi Nostalgia", "Yulin Bell".

Thanksgiving wind gently crosses, the sky is still blue, when the warmth of the world passes by you.

You need an equal response, face it with a normal heart, practice it with a grateful heart, and move it with a pure heart.

I always want to call out a name softly, kindly and warmly.

I always want to shout a word softly, simple and shy.

It's just – thanksgiving! Afterwards, the two hearts were fluttering, and they were grateful to each other, because they had the same ideals, so that the true love in the world would last forever.

The shadow of gratitude.

Because it exists, it needs to perish, and because there is love, the world is warm.

The shadow of gratitude can be seen everywhere.

In winter, the cold wind howls, and occasionally a few mournful chirps of jackdaws can be heard.

The bright moon at night is at the head, and how many joys and sorrows there are.

Spread a love, and the heart will not be lonely.

Because of the initiative of the former, in exchange for the touching of others.

Gratitude is like a bowl of chicken soup for the soul, leading the other party to understand and move the warmth, making people fall into endless deep thought, and it is like a bonfire burning in the bottom of the heart.

Poems of gratitude. Gratitude is a virtue, and gratitude is a reward.

It is a response to mutual assistance and a return of true affection.

It doesn't have to be too flashy, it doesn't have to be too hypocritical.

Because there is the active love of the former, there is a sincere response from the latter.

There are really not many things in the world that demand authenticity, and there are many things in the world that require authenticity.

Hope I can help you

Meng Jiao's "The Wanderer's Yin".

The line in the mother's hand, the wanderer's shirt.

Before leaving, I am afraid that I will return late.

Whoever says an inch is careless, and he will be rewarded with three springs.

It's a warm ray of sunshine.

And the advent of every day of the whole season.

Rippling like a spring breeze.

Wake all emotions out of hibernation.

It is the perception of life.

It exudes the fragrance of life.

Sensual sweet intoxicated.

There is no doubt about it.

It's a kind of willing love.

Even if the wind blows the firmament of time.

Even if the rain wets the years of youth.

Even if the soul is beaten by the crests and valleys of the waves.

What could be more reliable than that?

Say nothing.

Everything.

Only true love is here to keep it selflessly.

Mother-in-child love is hard to know.

It is difficult to know the love between mother and child.

The pain of mother-child love.

The tiredness of mother's love and son's love is known.

Howler's Declaration.

Out of the door, it was dark.

The sunset, unwilling to struggle, is gone.

Bright sunshine is a thing of the past.

A transparent wine glass with a beige guts.

Words and aspirations, clashing glasses.

Drink it all. What you swallow is bitter sweetness.

Noise with the hustle and bustle of others.

Speak your own words.

Slightly drunk face.

Shining with immature hope.

Out of the door, it was dark.

Accustomed to loitering.

It is also possible to have no direction.

I, standing at the intersection.

To the left is light, and to the right is immeasurable.

Everyone walks their own path.

Vendors selling corn can all let you stay.

Trucks loaded with garbage can also allow you to change directions.

Ever thought about really going your own way.

Even if it's just once.

I'm me for me, I have the final say.

I can laugh if I want to.

If I want to sing wildly, I will sing wildly.

I'm willing to drink as much as I want.

Laughing hoarsely in his throat and drinking through his stomach and intestines.

So what. The night is as dark as the day to me.

Still roaring.

Mencius said: In today's world, if you want to rule the world peacefully, you can give up no one else!!

If you are confident in life for 200 years, you will hit the water for 3,000 miles.

Self-confidence is a stepping stone in life.