Yu Guangzhong
Moonlight on the ground,
Nobody cleaned it,
Then fold a Zhang Kuo lotus leaf,
Go back wrapped in moonlight,
Looking back, I fell into the Tang poetry.
Flat,
Like crushed acacia ...
Moonlight has the fragrance of lotus leaves.
homesickness
Yu Guangzhong
In childhood
Homesickness is a small stamp.
I'm at this end
Mom is over there.
When I grow up
Homesickness is a narrow ticket.
I'm at this end
The bride is over there.
We'll talk about it later.
Homesickness is a low grave.
I am outside
Mom's inside.
But now
Homesickness is a shallow strait.
I'm at this end
The mainland is over there
homesickness
Xi Murong
The song of my hometown is a flute in Qingyuan, which always rings with the moon at night.
The face of my hometown is a vague disappointment, like a wave of farewell in the fog.
After parting, homesickness is a tree without rings and will never grow old.
Daoxiang season
A heavy dream
Hanging in a vast field
A fragrant breeze
Blow away the farmhouse
That infatuation
Dreams are not lingering.
In the festive atmosphere
Qicai jinbo
Swing in the arms of the water town
People drink thousands of glasses of wine.
Right here-
When fertile land is thousands of miles away.
Wangxiangtai
Boarding Wangxiangtai
Walk at the foot of many mountains
Look at a cloud in the sky.
The wind brought the local accent.
There is no Lin Tao around.
The mountain road is curved and narrow.
There is only one way to my hometown.
Zhitong Wang Xiangtai
Look at the mountains and water in my hometown.
Look at the willow and locust trees in my hometown.
And the pine trees at home.
Like my grandmother.
Thousands of miles away from home
It's been years.
Homesickness will never retreat.
Always come to Wangxiangtai every year.
1 I miss my hometown, and I miss my hometown inexplicably.
Hometown is the old wine brewed by Youzi with millet. The longer it lasts, the more mellow it tastes.
When I think of my hometown, I miss it quietly.
Hometown is full of delicious food, which tempts travelers from afar to taste it.
When I think of my hometown, I miss it silently.
Hometown is a fragment of a wanderer's childhood memory. The more you manage it, the more you can't control it, and the more you can't piece together a complete picture.
When I think of my hometown, I miss it in my heart.
The longer I miss my hometown, the deeper my experience of my hometown and the greater my touch on my soul.
Hometown, how do wanderers miss their hometown?
Miss hometown, in fact, is miss childhood partners, miss the old house, miss the land. However, what the wanderer misses most is his elderly parents.
Hometown, miss my hometown, miss my hometown for no reason.
Whenever I face the bright moon, I miss my hometown like a flood.
Hometown, homesickness, no need for any excuses.
Wanderers miss their hometown all the time. & lt& lt miss my hometown (prose poem) >>
Send acacia thousands of miles on the Mid-Autumn Moon Night.
A bright moon hangs high.
Reminds me of my infinite leisure.
Wandering people look very religious.
Better than pilgrims
Watching the same full moon in the far north.
Pray for the light in my hometown.
Can you give me a cavity enthusiasm?
The wet tears came back again.
The voice of Qing Hui washing her face suddenly sounded.
Under the laurel tree, I followed my mother's kind face.
Falling among the flowers is my father standing in the sunset.
A thin figure
the autumn rain goes on and on
Tenderness arises spontaneously.
Drifting duckweed leads the thread of missing.
Fly as far as the sky is.
Wandering footprints extend the blood of family ties.
How wide the ground is, how deep it can penetrate.
Bear this heavy debt
When is it to regret the moon?
To be filial.
Cut out a slender reflection
Sprinkle moonlight everywhere.
The eagle flew over the snowfield in his hometown.
It used to be a yearning for dreams.
Review the fruits of first love
Does it still hang on the laurel tree of memory and smell fragrant?
On this moonlit night, the bleak autumn wind
Put a floating heart
It's getting colder and colder.
On the Mid-Autumn Moon, it rained all night in Mao Mao.
The rising tide in the chest broke through the missing river bank.
flood
The disappearance of the homeless
Miss the mountains in my hometown
The mountains in my hometown are very green.
Miss the water in my hometown
The water in my hometown is so green.
Miss the clouds in my hometown
The clouds in my hometown are so light.
People who miss their hometown
People in my hometown are so close.
Missing a wanderer
Day after day.
I hope that people and green mountains and green waters will last for a long time.
One day, my classmates got together.
homesickness
Xi Murong
The song of my hometown is a flute in Qingyuan, which always rings with the moon at night.
The face of my hometown is a vague disappointment, like a wave of farewell in the fog.
After parting, homesickness is a tree without rings and will never grow old.