32

The thorn of the rose,

is the hatred of the climber.

is her own comfort.

three three

mother!

Put aside your worries,

Let me sink into your arms,

Only you are the settlement of my soul.

Bing Xin's modern poems

March 4th

create new land,

not the rolling waves,

but the tiny sand under it.

Three to five

Thousands of angels,

get up and sing praises to children;

children!

In his tiny body,

there is a great soul.

Sanliu

Sunlight penetrated into the crevice of the stone,

He said to Tiny Thorn Fruit,

"Stick out your head with my strength,

and liberate yourself!"

The trunk is sticking out,

The solid rock is

split in two.

sanqi

artist!

you and the world,

are you separated by a heavy fog of light forever?

March 8th

On the well field,

Listen to the river under the gurgling mountain-

The chilly wind,

Blowing your hair;

On the horizon-on the ground,

When I turned around, I added a few more lights.

Is it a star,

or a lamp?

Sanjiu

When I first woke up from my dream,

I caught a glimpse of her in the clouds below.

Chaoyang!

When you leave,

you are pitiful,

how can you see me again now!

4

My friend!

Don't trust me.

I have caused you endless troubles.

I am just a weak person driven by ideological trends!