Dreamy morning, dreamy youth
Drifting away
A person's world, a person's solitude
The tide rises and falls
Has come out of my world, with no end in sight.
The sweet smell of May and the lotus rhyme of June
It was doomed.
So, let Qinghuan's words
With the lightness of the soul
Fragrant to the heart and bone
-- inscription
Tonight, walking in the streets of Hakka, quietly listening to the sound of wheat falling to the ground in my hometown, it hurts vaguely.
At the end of May, there was gold everywhere. The hometown of May, wrapped in the golden wheat waves, the bright yellow, is so attractive, is so beautiful, ingesting the soul. The night was so quiet, but the wheat waited anxiously. Rain Water is so dense, the summer wind is so fierce, the farmer's heart is mentioned in the throat, a spring waiting, will not be disappointed?
Night wind, not cold, very hot. The wheat field in May is a flowing river, a jubilant wave, and a happy dream spread out by the watcher with golden yellow in his heart.
Tonight, just tonight, the wheat of my hometown is going to be harvested, perhaps it has been harvested, the roar of the machine broke the silence of the summer night, watching the wheat prostrate and fall, the particles and the wheat straw separated, the wheat grain was collected into the farmer's granary, while the wheat straw was mercilessly burned, does it hurt, my straw?
How lively it is in the threshing field of memory! During the busy agricultural season, men and women, young and old, go to battle together, cut, pull, and then gather in the wheat field, threshing, is the most primitive crushing, the old cow slowly turn the circle, and then turn over and re-crush until clean, and then pile the straw forks together, the base is high, rows like sentinels watching the field! Wheat grains and miscellaneous seeds are mixed together, and when the wind blows at night, raise high with a shovel to remove miscellaneous seeds, and that grain of wheat is bare in the night, shining with dazzling light! That's the hope of farmers! Gently hold it in your hands, such as taking care of your children, smelling the wheat fragrance, as if you see the sun of tomorrow!
At night, we still have to watch the field, and follow the adults lying in the open world with flashlights, mats, quilts, looking up, you can see the round moon, listen to the frogs in the ponds, and the happy songs of unknown worms in the fields. I heard the nagging voices of adults, summer night, really not quiet!
Time flies, time flies, gone, my wheat field, my wheat field. Now living in a foreign land, I can only ask timidly through the tunnel of time and space: my wheat field, are you all right? I have been watching, watching your eternity!
For a long time, there will always be a touch of homesickness and sadness, not just because of being away from people. When ploughing harvests, harvesting and ploughing again, it is not like our life. We not only watch the affection of the family, but also watch happiness!
The years are like water, the youth is gone, and the dream is gone. In the deranged fleeting years, thinking of the aging memory and looking at the new hometown, I forgot the way back to my hometown and the destination of my soul.
Tonight, the wind of the hometown is cool; tonight, the wind of the hometown is warm. I am adrift in my hometown; I stay in my native land in the wheat field. After all, it is the moment that can not be retained.
Tonight, let me miss you quietly, and then watch you, my wheat field! There, there are always warm lights, wisps of colorful memories, although hard, still beautiful!
Tonight, the curl of smoke from my hometown has been lingering in my heart, forever.
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