It is suggested that the landlord use the love monologue of the border people, and the four subtitles of this poem use the first four sentences of Du Fu's Spring Hope. The form is just suitable for four people to recite, and the content is not patriotic in the general sense, but pays more attention to the inheritance of a cultural blood. Through this work, we can feel the pain of the separation of Taiwan Province Province from the mainland. This is not a patriotic poem. The monologue of the frontier people: Love Although a country is divided, the mountains and rivers are enduring. No one can be conceited except mountains and rivers, because they have been bound by a bloody ligament since the formation of rocks in the Ice Age. The rivers and mountains may change, but not one's essential nature The souls and ashes of those who have gone to China are nothing more than a shower floating over the 36 th peak of Songshan Mountain. Is there still Wan Li in the Yangtze River? The answer to the wind and snow whizzing by is that after Qian Fan's death, the Three Gorges water surged on both sides, leaving not only apes whistling on the dangerous beach, but also a pair of exiled footprints, crying all the way out of Sichuan. Now a cold Qin Moon floats on the peak of Huashan Mountain, and a blackened modern moon country floats on Alishan Mountain. I just don't understand. I don't know why the fish and shellfish in Danshui River poisoned themselves in the way of the 1980s in "Spring Comes Back to the Earth", in the mountains, on the wings of dandelions, in the thawed river, in the tangled copulation of wild chrysanthemums and green bristlegrass, on the blushing peach trees, among thousands of girls, in the streets, in a drunken and homesick restaurant in Kuizhou in the late Tang Dynasty, no matter. Nobody said anything except a medicine bottle with no signs of erection. In "The Place of Tears", the tears in the south of the Yangtze River are not called tears, but peach trees splash misty rain, and camellia begonia trees splash apricot flowers. In Jiangnan, only the willow silently hangs its head, because it has cried a pool of tears. Lonely birds sang their sadness. When the fire on the earth destroyed his home, he began to feel sad, so he had to build another dream and ruined his childhood. He wants to build another swing and ruin the sky, so he has to adjust the angle of looking up at midnight. I haven't heard a shot for a long time, and the snoring of the whole city suddenly breaks out like vulgar songs. We've been so noisy all our lives. There is really nothing to be afraid of when birds chirp in the morning. Only when we are in front of the mirror can we be shocked. Now we have a white hair hidden in the teeth of the comb. PS: Please accept it if you are satisfied, and ask if you are not satisfied. Whether people will have emotional reactions when listening to poems. The emotional response is related to the following factors: first, the sound quality of the reader (related to the reader); The second is the sense of rhythm (the poet's responsibility is to provide the beat sign, and the reciter should show the potential rhythm); Thirdly, poetic imagery (which is related to the quality of poetry and the cultivation of the audience); Fourth, the personal situation of the reciter (being famous and beautiful helps to improve the openness of readers). The only difference between listening to poetry and listening to songs lies in the different order of these factors. The order of importance of listening to songs is: (2), (4), (1), and (3) Actually, what I want to say is Dai Wangshu's I Use My Damaged Palm. I used my broken palm to explore this vast land: this corner has been reduced to ashes, and that corner is only blood and mud; This lake should be my hometown. In spring, the bank is full of flowers, and the tender willow branches are broken with strange fragrance. ) I touch seaweed and cool water. The snow peaks in Changbai Mountain are freezing cold, and the water and sediment of the Yellow River slip through your fingers. ? The rice fields in Jiangnan are so soft ... now there is only Artemisia scoparia; Litchi flowers in Lingnan are lonely and withered. For now, I have soaked in the bitter water of the South China Sea without a fishing boat ... The invisible palm swept the mountains without hatred, and my fingers were stained with blood and ash, and my palms were stained with darkness. Only the distant corner is still intact, warm, clear, firm and vigorous. On it, I touched it with my broken palm, like a lover's soft hair, like a baby's milk. I put all my strength on the palm of my hand and put it on it, sending love and all my hopes, because only where there is sun and spring will we drive away the darkness and bring Su Sheng, because only there will we not live like animals and die like ants … There, eternal China!

Motherland, my dear motherland, Qinyuan Spring Snow.