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When the poor people are in trouble, when will the dragon dance? In the future, the meal will be ripe, and the dream will bring relatives and old friends together.

"Whispering in the Morning" is my first collection of essays (a collection of essays). It is also a testimony of my continuous efforts over the years, and it is also a proof and imprint of my growth. There are not only fireworks in the world of mortals, but also insights into life, as well as profound thoughts on the meaning of life. I hope you all like this kind of work, thank you for your attention and support!

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There are sparse bamboo shadows in front of Jinli Hall. Poetry, poetry, poetry and character. Zimei always holds simplicity in her heart, The sound of the river under the pen enters the painting.

I hope you can stay happy and healthy, so that we can go further and share more stories together.

Don't tell us anything about Big Sky Boring We just stared at the ground at our feet Look at the green wheat and it looks fresh The wind blows through the wheat waves It's like talking Don't beat around the bush‖ We are farming No other name Water at sunrise Sit on the field and smoke at sunset Not so particular I don't want to be a poet either I just want to keep this piece of wheat Live a normal life

The essence of personal original poems and essays, using words to retain time, record some sadness and beauty, and write poems into time.

I saw the moon bending in the sky, I was so hung up that I sang a few songs in the wind-- And it leads to a thousand points of beauty in the clouds, There are several layers of light hook mountains. ‖ The silver glow does not scatter the light, Every strand is the hope of the world-- The song follows the clouds and circles the top of the mountain, All are gently wrapped by the new moon.

Stream of consciousness essay

This collection of prose and poetry is inspired by life, family, work, and more importantly, emotions. I hope you all like it.

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10 poems.

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"Deep in the Sea" is the first literary work created by the musician Cai Shufa. It contains poems, essays, prose, stories, etc. Most of the subjects are based on objects as the background; every flower, tree, grass and tree becomes vivid in the writing. The poet uses his own thoughts to give life to the poems to express the world in his eyes. Each sentence of this small poem contains the profound philosophy of life and is worthy of people's appreciation.

The wind holds the tail of the moonlight paper on night sky Spreading translucent branches Every mark is so light Like unfinished thoughts

Life is like a hedgehog, waiting for you everywhere. But why am I wrong? So I know that the world is also dark and evil? If you believe so, wouldn't it be the same as the virtuous people in ancient times? In this world, I am the only one who wakes up, and everyone else exists in a drunken dream. I only write poems to lament this sad world.

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Fun stories in childhood are always sweet, and childhood life must be beautiful. With a pure heart.

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Many years ago, a square seal was carved, Hanshi. So he took the cold room as his name.

This work is a collection of Qian Ziying's essays. All articles in it are original works by me. Any similarity is purely coincidental and imitation is prohibited. If you like my work, thank you for your love and support. Let us stand together through thick and thin and make progress together!

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Hello readers! I am Wenjun 520, and I am very happy to present you my poetry works, which come from the taste of life and will surely precipitate sweet wine for you. Grow together and read together.

I fold my mood into the wind with tooth marks There are wet spots hidden in the paper texture When it passes over the window sill, the sun is opening its palms Catch the shadows sprouting in the folds From the corners of the wind, glowing wings grow

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90s high and gradually separated (the strings continue to break) A collection of poems published at the age of 17 Overseas Chinese Publishing House "We Once Loved the Same Sea"

When the wind tore and the rain rolled over me, thousands of muddy fists were splashed on the ground, like wildly jumping water splashes. If fate dared to drown my ideals, I would use my bones to carve unyieldingly into the waves.

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We took a painted boat and anchored it in the center of the West Lake. The setting sun turned the boat's shadow into light gold. Let those love words and poems that hide the heartbeat, follow the gentle ripples on the side of the ship, and ripple across the blue waves - like spring catkins falling into the soft wind, like lotus fragrance entangled with willow silk, quietly spreading into long rolls in the water light, every water ripple is spreading our years.

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Come to China Literature's website to read more of my works!

Sometimes, inadvertent moments will always bring you into memories, fill in the gaps, and try to retain the memory. But when there is a gap in the memory, it is inevitable to be pulled back to reality. When I was a child, I listened to my grandma talking about things of their time, and later I listened to my mother's stories. Everything in their memories is different. It's because the city is changing, society is changing, and life is changing. I don't know if I, many years from now, will be telling my children the words, "We were back then..."

The Great Wall is a majestic poem engraved by time. The peaks are the punctuation points, and the shadows are the rhymes. Every inch of masonry is soaked with ink marks tempered by beacon fires. It winds among the folds of mountains and rivers, The blood of the garrison soldiers, the cocoons on the fingertips of the craftsmen, Together with the swaying moonlight of camel bells, All condensed into poems that will never fade, On the title page of the land of China, Eternally singing the long song of the family and the country forged by the pure heart.

I have never written sad words, nor have I made up poignant stories. ? Until one day, I discovered that loneliness can be drunk into the throat, and loneliness can be pumped into the lungs. ? Maybe words will be written and stories will be woven. ? But our youth is getting shorter and shorter, and our friends are getting fewer and fewer. ? We are all like a blind man, without direction, taking things as they come; we are also like an idler, walking around casually and never looking back, because we have no way to retreat. ? Some truths seem to be understood but are actually unknown; some people seem to understand but are actually difficult to understand. ? I don't know since when, I got used to living alone. I am miserable alone, who can understand my story! If that's the case, then so be it! Fortunately, the story is not over yet and life can go on. So, let us meet again in memories and get together in stories.

Little hearts bloom when rain falls on the ground

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Come to China Literature's website to read more of my works!

Sometimes, human love is like a butterfly and a flower. Although flowers are good to butterflies, only butterflies and butterflies can fly together. Flowers will wither without soil moisture. Sometimes, regret may be more perfect than gain, and friendship may last longer than love. Life may be like this. Only when you can't do some things can it be better for yourself and others. Amnesia is lost when it's time to lose memory. It's rare to be confused. Young people, be more open-minded.

These are not stories or essays. Just some thoughts written by myself. It doesn't matter whether you understand it or not. As long as someone knows. May the starry sky always open up its light and shine on every heart that needs healing...

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Come to China Literature's website to read more of my works!

Use classical poetry to record your own mental journey since the 21st century. Anthology of Lonely Hearts.

From Wang Ziheng's personal poetry collection

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After the college entrance examination in 2025, life has gone through another parting. Many former friends have gradually become alienated or even lost contact. Looking back, the innocence in the beginning is like a red tangerine tree in my memory. Although it has withered, it will always bloom in my heart. Tang petals are mostly elegant white or pink, and if you turn one red to a deep color, it will become purple. I occasionally remembered that I had written a poem about Begonia in the early third year, so I took advantage of my leisure time in the summer to compile some of my writing in the past three years. So I wrote this collection of Hongtang. Life is a waiting, waiting to meet, waiting to part.

Follow the call in your heart and look for the reeds in the distance Life dances with the clouds and mist, may you look for the rainbow

This little guy, you can't help but fall in love with him as soon as you see him. His naked body was only clad in a pair of beige sweat-stained briefs. His body was strong and well-proportioned, and his thick back was covered with mud marks. Under the round head is a round face. The eyes are not big, but they are very clever. When he dashed across the concrete floor in front of us with his bare feet, my eyes suddenly lit up: Isn't this guy the same kid I was in childhood? If he wears a silver collar and holds a steel fork, wouldn't he be the younger "Run Tu" of the protagonist in Lu Xun's "Hometown"?

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Come to China Literature's website to read more of my works!