Scissors are crisp and sweet.
Red paper tells
Simple can be traced back to ancient times.
White snow falls one by one.
Knock quietly on the window of blessing
Magpies are singing on the hollow branches.
The intertwined arcs indicate good weather.
Adults say paper-cutting is for good luck.
Sincere wishes are in this thin paper.
Bat carp peony dragonfly ingot
Changing desires
Click click click click.
Little hand took the pencil sharpener from grandpa's hand.
Draw stars and imagine a new story begins.
Fold in half, draw smoothly and slowly.
Scissors are crisp and sweet.
Red paper tells
Simple has a long history.
Beautiful peonies are in full bloom.
The vision can feel the fragrance.
Paper-cut girls inherit ancient skills
Create yin and yang in the ordinary.
My uncle is playing shadow play next door and watching.
The dusty wooden box will be moved to an unknown place.
The old woman who stands a stall has presbyopia.
Embroider the last girl with trembling hands
I heard that uncle is a certain kind of drama.
No one can take over from the previous generation.
The morning glow reflects the gray hair mercilessly.
Miss the lost music
Ah, fragments of art again.
It broke again and again.
Modern machinery has replaced diligence.
There are fewer and fewer successors.
Fold in half, smooth, and describe patiently.
Maintain the blood flow of the elderly.
Red paper tells
Cultural glory handed down from generation to generation
Stroll around the childhood play workshop
The blackened wooden stake lamented the vicissitudes of time.
Paper-cut girls inherit ancient skills
May we never see it die.
I had to watch another ship disappear.
Another person left his hometown and wanted to make a breakthrough.
The girl hid her finger wound.
No one will see it.
Sit at the wooden table after saying goodbye.
Fold in half, smooth, and portray with heart
Maintain the blood flow of the elderly.
Red paper tells
Cultural glory handed down from generation to generation
Stroll around the childhood play workshop
The blackened wooden stake lamented the vicissitudes of time.
Paper-cut girls inherit ancient skills
May we never see it die.