Each of us, everyone has their own homeland. Home is sweet star fruit bunches, is home to the best memories in life. Still have to go away, never people remember about the fatherland.
I grew up in the delta, where the straight-wing aircraft field. And maybe you always rice fields Countryside attractive pull people away from thinking about where their native land. The spring morning and stood at the top of the village, the fields that looked like so much fun! Mild spring breeze blowing, waves undulating paddy intermittent, episodic chase remain far apart. A flock of white storks flying wings outstretched over, gleaming against the blue sky. Especially when the farmers go to the grass, fields many questions throb singing ca .. Each colorful butterflies colorful toy with green rice mats. In the dream season is the ripening rice, if someone stood in distant look back will see a vast sea of gold. Scattered across the field was the scene farmers are harvesting rice, conical hats on copper.
Afternoon until lightly monsoons blow, rice flutters whispering murmur as talk to each other. The receiver afternoon, fog covered the field, looks away as a smoke screen thin, white thanks thanks. In the morning, the fog melted away leaving the glistening dew on the leaf.
Until the sun heating up the field, the sun's rays or fog shines almost innumerable tiny pearls, shone with colorful light beams, all seem to look very beautiful.
In the neighborhood children, brothers and sisters have gone away, who visit the country every time a field visit. They avidly watched the sparrows foraging flying carpet is the rice. Occasionally, they would pass down then soar sky gurgling call each other.
I love the village fields em, love em homeland. Here, I was born and raised. Now the delta NAV has made his "iron buffaloes" tape running in the field. High voltage glow villages. Life is moving on the path of happiness
"My country has blue river
Water mirror in the bamboo shed hair ... "
It was' the verse praising a letter hometown of Jiangnan. But for me, there is nothing glamorous, missed by the sea. The sea is my hometown, hometown of Vung Tau.
Sea, urging faithful defender! Has anyone given to it rhymes:
"When you see the beautiful ocean sea
When watching the gentle ocean sea see. "
A warm spring days, when watching variables, you will say: "Beautiful Beach!". Affordable beauty was bestowed by human nature.
Sea poetic at sunset, turning effusive on waking up at dawn, dazzling sea when sunlight strikes do occur countless diamonds in the beautiful sunny day. But it's not so beautiful in a certain pattern.
Early in the morning, when the crack of dawn, he has peach sun like the egg heart sea surge of vitality. It rushed up with intense faith welcomes the new day. To the distant headline sun, the sea like a peach silk brilliant. But back to the shore, the sea is a great band by a colored bowl blue dye, as in, the more faded. Looks like a giant sea wearing colorful robes rejoice in our vast universe. Waves as her wiggling snake gliding dance, chase each other bucket white foam on the coast.
The sun gets higher, more and sparkling sea. Splendid sea of bright yellow dress. Countless dust particles dancing in the museum launched the first waves. Shore sandbanks as instant glow yellow under his strong sun sun. In the interstitial ice, sea bumping sound noisy as the words said.
For me, the sea is very close friends, dearest. That friend gentle, honest in the sunset often sad cooing fun chatting with me.
Marine beauty gentle medium strong, at the same time carrying the rich arsenal of resources. Resource repository that enrich life. Sea gentle, hardworking, simple as people Vung Tau. Where is my hometown only marine but also charming scenery: White Palace, Big Mountain, Sakyamuni radio ... Sacks works of the ancient architecture. There is something magnificent, with the simple, gentle.
You come to Vung Tau - my home waters. You come here to enjoy the intoxicating spice powder; sea sickness; intoxicated with a warm heart; with life and with all the love.
