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What are the poems of the poet Biruo?
The pen is also called Hong Shaogan.

● "Last riding trip in winter (for Yu Guangzhong)"

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Everyone uses cold to express it.

Express the distant mother of these four seasons.

Mother holds nine provinces.

Nine provinces and poetry crying, nine villages

The poet's pain separated from the landscape

The fire came down and buried you in the Yangtze River and Yellow River.

Standing at the dawn of the quartet for you countless times.

The flaming dawn in southern China.

The widest beds and fields on the mainland.

In exchange for happy sunshine and wind.

The wind blew the soul into the air.

But never stopped, never far away.

China's eyes and your romantic escape.

I want to explain. I want to write poetry.

This made me touch the feet of nature.

Step on the ground hard for every swan.

Maybe this will be the best day.

Or maybe this is the day when the poor offend the times.

If possible, this is a riding trip.

The wise man left his last riding trip in winter.

"Look at the fields and the sky"

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Look at the fields and the sky

The forefinger suppresses life and faith.

You are all young people's fiancee.

I know, although I like it again.

You will all be married far away.

So, I walked with light steps.

Scatter flowers all over the earth like waves.

I have a mission to pray.

Looking at the fields and sky in the north

The fate of this poor man

"I praise love"

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I praise love.

With the ambition of civet cats

A clear spring in a mountain stream

And farewell poems.

Except for food and you.

Nothing can make

The stars disappeared in the sea.

Except for food and you.

Nothing can make

A letter from a strange woman

Or I praise love.

Ambition, Springs and Poetry

(photo by Hong Shaogan)

"Ring the morning bell"

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A poet is a lamp that never loses hope.

You can't repay everyone's worries.

You sleep in the farmer's wheat pile.

Although the voice is weak.

Can't stop the light of true knowledge.

Maybe I am a poet.

A madman who rings the morning bell.

● "Anding"

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In the village, wait for the clothes to dry.

When the grain is abundant.

I'll settle down

The tree lifted me up like a hand.

I stood quietly by the road.

Sleep with many lonely lives

In this burning world

"The snowman in front of your door"

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Build a snowman in front of your door.

I am waiting for you with seasons and colors.

Whether you break into houses or not

I will love the snow-white earth

Build a snowman in front of your door.

I have no hands, let alone a pair of rough hands.

I will be the most beautiful companion in the world.

It turned me into a poem.

The comfortable cold neutralized.

The flame of love and poetry

Pigeons know everything unknown.

This snowman, this love

Xi 'an Journey

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The booming fishing market in the north

Looking for a lamp that is about to go out.

I request tomorrow, request the train.

All this proves how sweet poetry is.

Everything is proving the departure of October.

On the plains of the north, savage poets

How sad it is to come to you as promised.

The green horse jumped over my head.

You fell into an oil lamp in Erbish.

I want to help you, and I want to accept it happily.

Accept your jar full of gifts

Although the poem is very touching and sweet.

No one can confirm this trip to Xi 'an.

I help trains and horses.