The modern poems about Ai Qing are as follows:
1. "Sand"
The sun shines on a piece of white sand, and our footprints are printed on the sand.
We walked on the edge of the river, and the river was surging in the wind.
We called for the ferryman to come over, but our calls were carried away by the wind.
2. "Hope"
The friend of dreams and the sister of fantasy.
It is my own shadow, but it is always walking in front of you.
As invisible as light, as unstable as wind.
There is always a distance between her and you.
Like the birds outside the window, like the flowing clouds in the sky.
Like a butterfly by the river, cunning and beautiful.
You go up and she flies.
If you ignore her, she will chase you away.
She will always be with you, until you stop breathing.
3. "Snow falls on the land of China"
The snow falls on the land of China, and the cold is blocking China.
The wind is like an old woman who is too sad.
Following closely, stretching out cold fingers and claws, pulling on the skirts of pedestrians.
Using words as old as the land, he kept nagging for a moment.
The one who appeared from the forest, driving the carriage.
You Chinese farmer wears a fur hat.
Where are you going in the heavy snow?
Let me tell you, I am also a descendant of farmers.
Because of your faces full of painful wrinkles,
I can understand so deeply.
The hardships of the years for people living on the grasslands.
And I am no happier than you.
Lying on the river of time, the waves of suffering have swallowed me up and swept me up several times.
Wandering and imprisoned, I have lost the most precious days of my youth.
My life is as haggard as yours.
Snow has fallen on the land of China, and the cold is blocking China.
A small oil lamp moved slowly along the river on a snowy night.
The dilapidated awning boat was reflected in the light.
Who is sitting with his head lowered?
Ah, you.
A young woman with unkempt hair and dirty face.
Isn’t it, your home.
Has that nest of happiness and warmth been burned down by the violent enemy?
Isn’t it also like this at night?
Lost the protection of men, in the terror of death.
Have you been teased by the enemy’s bayonets?
Ahem, it’s such a cold night.
Countless, our old mothers.
They are all crouching in a home that is not their own, like foreigners.
I wonder how far the wheels of tomorrow will roll.
Moreover, China’s road.
It is so rugged and muddy.
Snow has fallen on the land of China, and the cold is blocking China.
Through the grassland on a snowy night, we can see the areas gnawed by the beacon fire.
Countless cultivators of the land.
Lost the livestock they raised and their fertile fields.
Crowded in the desperate alley of life.
The hungry earth faces the dark sky.
Stretching out his trembling arms for help.
China’s pain and disaster are as vast and long as this snowy night!
Snow has fallen on the land of China, and the cold is blocking China.
China, mine is at night without lights.
Can the weak poems I wrote give you some warmth?
3. "Times"
I stood under the low eaves, looking at the wild hills in ecstasy.
With the high and vast sky, I felt like I felt a miracle in my heart for a long time.
I saw a shining thing that inspired my heart like the sun.
There was a heavy roar in the sky and a howling like a storm.
Rubbing and rolling.
I am fascinated by it and cheer!
When I heard the bumpy sound of giant wheels on the uneven road coming from the other side of the snow-capped mountains covered with clouds.
Like those grooms rushing to get married.
Even though I know that what it brings to me is not the carnival of the festival.
The laughter in a sideshow is a scene more cruel than a thousand slaughterhouses.
But I still run towards it, with the enthusiasm that a life can exert.
I am not a weakling, and I will not be complacent.
I am not someone who can comfort or deceive myself. I am not satisfied with what the world has given me.
Whether it is honor or shame.
No matter it is the gloomy gaze and the night-like hatred, as well as the happiness that makes people's eyes shine because of it.
I feel empty in a place you don’t know. Give me the world in which I live, and I will always stretch my arms.
I want to climb mountains, I want to cross the sea.
I want to welcome higher praise and greater slander.
An even more insoluble resentment, and a more fatal blow.
It’s all because I want to rise from the deep ditch of time...
No individual’s pain will be worse than mine.
I am loyal to the times and dedicated to the times, but I am silent.
Reluctantly, like a captured prisoner.
I was silent before being escorted to the execution ground. I was silent because I didn’t have loud enough words.
Like early summer thunder rolling across the cloudy sky, my passion is unleashed in my violent shouts.
To something that excites and surprises me so much that I love it more than anything I've ever loved.
For its arrival, I am willing to give up my life.
Delivered to it from my inner body to my soul, I looked so humble in front of it.
I even want to lie on my back on the ground and let its feet step on my chest like a road.
4. "I Love This Land"
If I were a bird, I should also sing with a hoarse throat.
This land battered by storms, this river of sorrow and indignation that always surges with us.
The angry wind that blows endlessly, and the extremely gentle dawn coming from the forest.
Then I died, and even my feathers rotted in the earth.
Why do I always have tears in my eyes? Because I love this land deeply.
5. "Trolley"
In the area where the Yellow River flows, at the bottom of countless dry rivers.
The cart, with its only wheel, made a high-pitched sound that made the dark sky convulse.
The buds passed through the cold and silence, from the foot of this mountain to the foot of that mountain.
The sorrow of the people of the Northern Kingdom resounded throughout.
On a freezing day, between poor villages.
The handcart, with its individual wheels, carved deep tracks on the gray-yellow soil layer.
Through the vastness and desert, from this road to that road.
Intertwined with the sorrow of the people of the North.