Mango solar terms poem.

The first sound of the wheat bird

Gung, gung, gung, gung.

Tell me, the wheat and its feathers in the village.

Same yellow.

Ancient cooking smoke, breathing on the winding river.

The wind and waves in June revealed the secrets of soil slopes and seeds.

Then, beating gongs and drums.

The fertile land is vast, and the spine is tendered by Yellow Oracle Bone Inscriptions.

Yellow tears, tearing broken bones, a great sadness and joy is a time.

Over the Death

Crops that feed creatures on both sides of the Taiwan Strait.

In this solar term, let the gods bow down and pray.

Sharpen a sharp sickle

It seems that Ermang is a distant farming age.

We no longer need

Those straws and stubble

Farm tools are deteriorating.

Some backward figures still exist.

Bend happily on the ridge.

leave

Take your time.

The crops are not growing well.

Welcome mango festival

On the roof, there is a roll of kitchen smoke hidden.

I planted seven cents in my stomach.

Fill your hunger in these fulfilling years.

Xiarili

An agricultural proverb is like a mountain behind it.

-people bully the ground for a while.

Deceive others forever

Trigonella seed, marry your new mother, Dong Jun. Don't cry, the wheat is ripe.

Give your heart and straw to autumn.

When the wind blows, we turn into smoke and blow all over the fields.

one

The sun is burning, and it rains in Liutang.

At the moment of wheat filling, the earth needs lightning.

Defeat stupidity, laziness and delusion.

Sing youth and strength, and the torch will start a prairie fire on the earth.

Seasonal wind and rain will overcome mature slack at any time.

Disrespect for food

Wheat season, not only the world is full of joy.

When the grain wheel is transported to the granary, it is time to stop.

two

A calm river also has sadness that will never wake up.

The mature wheat lying on the ridge of the field is most worried.

The wind and rain came, and no one picked her mature, beautiful and happy fruit.

Poets praise in the countryside, but dare not personally help the charming bride in the sunset.

Accustomed to standing up straight, can you yield to the beauty of the earth?

Ye Gong is a dragon coward, a lonely madman, a melodramatic poem that can't be sold at a price!

Only the greatest farmers will throw away the silver sickle and go forward bravely.

Forward!

Sweat and tears mingle between the fallen wheat and your lover.

All the imagination in spring, at this moment

Release; Emissions; issue

What other beauties fall asleep in Chun Xue, under the moon and before the flowers?

Hug!

White clouds roll a cigarette, and green leaves make my cattail leaf fan.

The river burns a bowl of herbal tea and the stars light oil.

A table was set on the ground to entertain the gentleman in the clouds and send a bunch of incense.

Firefly, my baby is playing on my knee.

Mads, I've been thinking about you all spring, auntie.

I can finally marry a bride and miss you in my dream at night.

Marry you!

You can feel your round breasts with confidence.

Salty hands, calloused hands, hands smoking cigarettes, hands picking up dog droppings,

Trembling hands, dip you.

Maixiang

three

In June, when we entered the summer solstice, agriculture and mulberry trees were everywhere on the international sea.

Time rain

I bypassed my home and dialed peas in the main room.

Mother told wheat

Our farmer married his aunt.

Don't miss agricultural soil moisture

Hurry up and plant seedlings!

Four mans writing is green.

The sickle is still in my hand.

Shoulder this responsibility again.

Pretend to be the poet's father

Forgot to leave it blank

My father often warns me.

Cherish ink like gold.

I'm not afraid at all.

Don't be stingy with sweat.

Mother served rice wine under the moonlight.

Yuan Man Piaoxiang

Look at that tall wheat pile.

Father is a little drunk.

I'm surprised at the five-awn species

This needle-like edge

A little careless

You will stab your heart.

grain of wheat

Have the same light as the sun

farmer

Put too much desire on it.

Grab the seeds and harvest.

This is for the autumn dream.

You can keep hoeing.

I don't care about sweating.

Although very tired.

Farmers will stand up strongly.

With the virtue of hard work

To harvest the golden sunshine.