What is Ye Saining's short poem?

Goodbye, hometown jungle, goodbye, golden spring.

Clouds of dark clouds drifted everywhere and were smashed to pieces by the plowshares of the sun.

Sunny weather, you can be as brilliant as you like, but I like sadness.

I don't want to put a small steel knife in the boot anymore.

It's boring at night, and it's hard to sleep under the pony's stomach.

The crisp sound can't fill the joy of the whole forest.

The knocker of the invisible door jingles in the blue sky,

Look, a storm is coming, it will sweep the earth!

2. Pull up the red hurdy-gurdy.

Pull up, pull up the red hurdy-gurdy.

A beautiful girl met a lover in the pasture.

The burning apple in my heart shines with the color of cornflower.

I play the accordion and sing my blue eyes.

The flashing ripples in the lake are not luminous,

Behind the hillside is your embroidered scarf.

Pull up, pull up the red hurdy-gurdy.

Let the beautiful girl hear her lover's throat.

3. At the farmhouse

Soft scones are very fragrant, and there are several barrels of kva on the threshold.

On the rusty little iron stove, cockroaches are drilling into the cracks.

Soot hovered over the stove, and scones were baking in the stove.

There is a pile of raw egg shells behind the salt pot on the bench.

Mother bent down and it was not convenient to pick up the fork.

My husband's cat slipped to the side of the small pot and tried to lick the freshly squeezed milk skin.

A few unstable hens stood on the handle of the wooden plow and chattered,

A group of cocks are singing in the yard, as if they were having a solemn mass.

Curled up in the darkness under the window, a few furry puppies,

They are timid and are climbing from the corner to the horse yoke.

On the other side of the mountain, on the other side of the yellow valley.

On the other side of the mountain, on the other side of the yellow valley, there is a country road stretching;

I saw the forest and flames in the evening, and the shadow still surrounded the nettle fence.

There, on the dome of the church, the sand in the sky glows blue in the morning.

And the sparkling wind blowing from the lake blows the bells of the roadside grass.

Not because of singing in the farmland in spring, but because of the wide greenway.

With the melancholy of cranes, I fell in love with monasteries on high mountains.

Every evening, when the blue becomes hazy, when the faint sunset hangs on the bridge,

There you are, my poor drifter, bending to the cross of love.

Everyone in the monastery has a gentle heart. They pray and you listen greedily.

I hope you will also bless my dead soul in front of the icon of the savior.

I bid farewell to my hometown cabin.

I said goodbye to my hometown cabin and left Lanross.

When the three stars are high, the birch forest by the pond will melt the old mother's worries.

The moon is like a golden frog, floating on the calm water.

The old father's white beard fluttered under his mouth like an apple blossom.

I won't be back soon! The snowstorm sang and rang for a long time.

The old maple stands on one leg, guarding Blue Ross.

I know that people who kiss fallen leaves and raindrops are happy.

Because that old maple tree shakes as low as my head.