Author: forefinger

When cobwebs mercilessly sealed my stove.

When the smoke of ashes sighs the sorrow of poverty

I still stubbornly smooth away the ashes of disappointment.

Write with beautiful snowflakes: believe in the future.

When my purple grapes turn into dew in late autumn

When my flowers snuggle up to other people's feelings

I still stubbornly use frosted vines.

Write on the desolate land: believe in the future.

I want to use my fingers to stir the waves that rush to the horizon.

I want to hold the sun in my hand.

The warm and beautiful pen flickers with the dawn.

Write with a child's pen: believe in the future.

I believe in the future.

Yes, I believe that people's eyes in the future

She brushed away the eyelashes of history.

She has a student who can read through the years.

No matter what people think of our rotting bodies.

Those lost blues, the pain of failure.

It was tears of emotion and deep sympathy.

Or give a contemptuous smile and bitter ridicule?

I firmly believe that people are interested in our spine.

Countless explorations, lost ways, failures and successes.

I will definitely give a warm, objective and fair evaluation.

Yes, I am anxiously waiting for their comments.

Friends, believe in the future.

Believe in indomitable efforts

Young people who believe in overcoming death.

Believe in the future and love life.

-

Grassland in the sky

In the vague memory of my childhood, I was born in a white yurt, and the smoke curled up.

Grassland is the blue when I sleep, my playmate when I play and my study.

Palace. The land that raised me, I regard it as my own, bathing in my river.

Ah, why are you always as pure as mother's milk?

The goshawk is in the sky, the black steed is flying at will, and there are a sea of people under the Pingdingshan.

Cattle and sheep, and you, my grassland in the sky, and your melodious pastoral songs accompany me to sleep every night.

Villages and towns I like riding horses and singing loudly. It's like going back to the legendary era. I

I am eager to become a surging wave like my grandparents, to travel around the world and see my grandfather's story.

The boundless ocean.

Now, I really left you, came to this strange place and disappeared from the yurt.

Without the pasture, I kept running for a small ideal in my heart. There was laughter.

There are tears, pride and discouragement. But, but I never regret it, because every time

When I dragged my tired body to sleep, I found your melodious pastoral music ringing in my ears again.

Ring; I found that my heart has been jumping on the green grassland. Like crystal.

In the clear river, I really find that the song is like a horn, and that heart keeps flowing.

Give me strength and hope!

Tengger Tower, the grassland in my sky, I didn't understand why my ancestors until now.

After all the hardships, I still want to come back to you. Why do I always feel that I am in a foreign land?

You've been expecting me!

Mongolian is the son of grassland, and the son of grassland is homesick.

Tengritala, my sky grassland, please listen to me. I am also the son of the grassland.

I am also the son of the grassland. Everything I do today is to be able to one day.

Come back to your side, wipe away the wrinkles on your face, drive away the raging storm for you, and let you

The old smile blooms again!

Wait for me, my grassland in the sky, my hometown of birth, my mother!

-

-

-

They are all suitable for reciting, but they must have enough feelings!