地质人诗歌 1
站在草原上，我们的影子被拉长，踩在地上沙粒般的脚步声响起；
在沙漠深处，我们翻动着岩石，风轻轻掠过，带走尘土。
像巨龙般腾空而起，雄黄的呼啸撕裂寂静；
如同骆驼，驼铃此起彼伏，踏实地前行。
在这片无边无际的土地上，我们是风中穿行的猎鹰，追逐着猎物；
在黑暗中，我们也发出细微的声响，奏响了希望的乐章。
弯弯的山路上，我们的影子在阳光下摇曳；
蜿蜒的山路，在心中编织出迷人的风景。
风吹过我们，带走城市的喧嚣；
却带着我们的灵魂，奔向未知的远方。
信仰是三重精神，风清气正是我们最深刻的品质；
它是永恒的信念，指引我们在黑暗中寻找光明。
风中的岩石，沉默地聆听内心的声音；
沙粒在风中跳跃，留下独特的 signatures。
我们是大地的雄鹰，在天空翱翔；
踏实地前行，追逐着心中的目标。
在这片无名的小草丛中，我们找到了生命的答案。
地质人诗歌 2
无论狂风暴雨，Regardless酷暑严寒， Regardless of the rugged terrain, regardless of whether it is spring or fall; Regardless of how long we are missing those who were here to watch us through every moment.
We always stay behind the mountains and valleys where we belong, wherever the earth lays its hands over us;
Our presence is a breath in our land; it's a part of it, an integral part of it. We are the ones who are here for the sake of completing the project that they had set out to do; we're here to make it better and more reliable, to deliver what we believe is the best outcome.
That one night, when you fall asleep on the挖掘机 beside you, your sleep has been interrupted by a phone call;
that next night, when you enter sleep, you are being woken up by someone else, who is going to handle the emergency that was left behind.
that month, when you're away from your family and friends, in an unfamiliar land far off in the world, where communication is impossible because of a disconnect between all the parties involved, you have to walk through the path, and with your hands, you try to figure out as much as possible about that place;
that year, when you're gone from this land, which is so far away from home, and it's not just because of a lack of communication or any other reason; but because you've been here for too long, and the way the world works, it won't matter about how far you are.
that night, when you wake up from your last shift, your body is exhausted, but you're trying to get back to your life: work, family, friends; maybe you can take on something new, or you keep going; maybe the good days come and go, but the bad ones don't.
that next day, when you begin to get up again, and look out at the moon, you're thinking about your family: your mother, your sister, your grandmother; your father, your brother, your father-in-law. You think about how much they've worked for you, and how proud they are of you, regardless of what's going on in the world around them.
that last month, when you go back to bed, your body tells you that it needs to sleep; it goes away, it goes to sleep; and then you find yourself looking at those stars, wondering about the things they see; you wonder if there is a connection between you and them.
that year, when you come back from work, after two years of being gone, you go to your family's house; you bring some food that has been sitting in your pocket for months; your mother comes home, and she says, "Did you make it?"
You say, "Yes. You did." And then she hands you a small basket of gold coins, which are symbols of the things they've given you; she says, "You know what they've given you? They've always told you to carry them with you when you go off somewhere where communication is a problem." And you do. But now that they're gone, and you don't have to worry about them anymore.
that night, when you wake up in the morning, your body tells you it's time to rest; but then it goes away, and you start walking through your city, which is surrounded by mountains and hills, which are surrounded by dense forests and fields of wildflowers. You try to get back to your way of life: work hard, have fun, be happy; even though the world is far from you.
that day when you leave the office, you look at the sky above you; it's blue, like the sky when you've been gone for months and months. You think about the people in your country who live on the edge of the sky, and how their lives are connected to yours, even if they can't see them.
that last month, when you go back to bed, your body tells you it's time for sleep; you drift off to sleep, and you start thinking about the people around you: the children walking by, the birds flying over, the sound of cars passing by; you think about how many times they've passed you on the street, but then those thoughts fade away.
that year, when you're gone from this land, you go into a different one far off in the world, and there you stay, for as long as it will take you to get back. You work hard, you try to make things right; you carry the same weight of pride with you wherever you go.
that night when you wake up, your body tells you it's time for sleep; you drift off to sleep, and you start thinking about your family: the people who have been by your side through all these years; the ones who are still around, the ones who will always come back, no matter what happens in this world.
that last month, when you go back to bed, your body tells you it's time for sleep; you drift off to sleep, and you start thinking about the people in your country who have lived so long, but never left their homes; they're always here for you, even if they can't see you anymore.
that year, when you come back from work, after two years of being gone, you go to your family's house; you bring some food that has been sitting in your pocket for months; your mother comes home, and she says, "Did you make it?"
You say, "Yes. You did." And then she hands you a small basket of gold coins, which are symbols of the things they've given you; she says, "You know what they've given you? They've always told you to carry them with you when you go off somewhere where communication is a problem." And you do. But now that they're gone, and you don't have to worry about them anymore.
that night, when you wake up in the morning, your body tells you it's time to rest; but then it goes away, and you start walking through your city, which is surrounded by mountains and hills, which are surrounded by dense forests and fields of wildflowers. You try to get back to your way of life: work hard, have fun, be happy; even though the world is far from you.
that day when you leave the office, you look at the sky above you; it's blue, like the sky when you've been gone for months and months. You think about the people in your country who live on the edge of the sky, and how their lives are connected to yours, even if they can't see them.
that last month, when you go back to bed, your body tells you it's time for sleep; you drift off to sleep, and you start thinking about the people around you: the children walking by, the birds flying over, the sound of cars passing by; you think about how many times they've passed you on the street, but then those thoughts fade away.
that year, when you're gone from this land, you go into a different one far off in the world, and there you stay, for as long as it will take you to get back. You work hard, you try to make things right; you carry the same weight of pride with you wherever you go.
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