Prose of Judea in my second hometown

Ten years ago, when I heard your name, it was already late autumn, standing on the bank of Zhangjiang, where the river was long and fascinated my blue eyes. There are fallen leaves all over the ground by the stream, and two roads are trodden.

I never thought that Upper Judah was my second hometown. I once set foot on the road to the south of Ganzhou. Six years later, I embarked on a journey to the west of Ganzhou. The first time I came to see you at close range, not only because of your beauty, but also because you are connected with my blood. My wife grew up drinking Youjiang, which is where he is haunted. My son has her water in his blood to feed him. I'm just a guest passing by in a hurry.

Unexpectedly, four years ago, in Upper Judah, you welcomed guests from afar with open arms. The Youjiang River in autumn is as calm as a mirror.

Since then, I have lived in Shangyou, seen the steep lakes with various customs all year round, been to Longtan Waterfall hidden in beautiful forests, heard the spring breeze in March, and heard the rustling tea garden in Shuimei Garden in spring. ...

Climb over the oil stone and explore the drifting of garden village; Collected the story of Meiling Reservoir; How many times have I climbed the black tower and looked into the distance? Green mountains and green waters have nurtured the industrious and kind Hakkas in Upper Judah.

In a pair of vigorous couplets, I found traces of social changes; In the newly designed doorplates, I am thinking about the continuation of Hakka blood; When tasting a cup of Hakka water wine in front of the camp, I thought of the mellow wine in my hometown; While picking up pieces of delicious bacon, I saw the shadow of "home"

Yes, Shangyou, my second hometown, you said I had never been here ten years ago. You said I hadn't loved in all these years. Since the autumn of four years ago, Youjiang has been full of motherly tenderness. She greeted me and hugged me. She is my mother. She was, is and will be.

You don't know, in spring, she arranged the willow branches on both sides and combed them gently. She guessed my mind, and she called the spring breeze to stir my sleeping heart.

You don't know, in summer, she made an appointment with the stars all over the sky and blinked. She comforted my heart. She changed her posture and made waves to soak my broken heart.

You don't know, in autumn, she sent a nature painter to skillfully draw a picture of the sunset melting gold. She read my mind and drew a full moon on the water to release my homesickness.

You don't know, in winter, she drove the snowflakes out of the sky and quietly covered them up. She read my mind. She came to the bird and took my sad heart away.

She is my mother. She was, is and will be. Shangyou, my second hometown, was, is and will be.

I saw the smoke from the kitchen in Youyou Xiao Yuan Village, heard the roar of the threshing floor in autumn, and flocks of ducks croaked happily. Isn't this my hometown? I will never forget it. I have drunk the sweet spring water here.

Shangyou, my second hometown. You escort me all the way, tell me all the way, distant guests! I have a deep love for you. Are you in love with me?

Shangyou, my second hometown. You must love me deeply, just like the vast Zhangjiang, which accepts many tributaries. You are not tired of the turbidity of small tributaries, and you, like a calm and tall mountain, are not tired of ordinary small stones.

You love me, love my ordinary. I have angered you with harsh words more than once before. I don't love you, Judas.

Shangyou, my second hometown, will you care about my vulgarity? Today, I finally understand that I have fallen in love with you deeply. Shangyou, my second hometown, did you hear my belated confession?

I love you, Shangyou, my second hometown. Not your permanent appearance, but your broad mind. You have trained the most beautiful rural teachers in the country. In order to send children to the other side of hope, teachers paddle the river and stick to the post of passing the truth by boat for decades. You have the noblest soul-Zhang Xuesen, a young man from a foreign land, would rather give up his life to save a drowning woman. You accepted a stranger from afar, Youjiang. So you are also a tributary of the Ganjiang River. Shangyou, you are originally of Hakka descent.

I love you, Shangyou, my second hometown. I love you, China, our spiritual home.