Help me write a modern poem praising "bamboo"

Listen to bamboo songs (modern poems) in Qiushui Yi, Iraq. A fresh mountain breeze blew through my heart and swayed with the bamboo forest. There is a kite in my heart, and birds are floating in the bamboo shoots, swaying and swaying. Even if the impetuous autumn and the slight cold in winter squeeze in, it is still green and straight, as always. Listen to the bamboo forest and sing softly in the wind. Bamboo whip always lurks quietly, so far away from self-cultivation. Stop in that quiet harbor, let the mountain wind blow my skirts, let the microwave be quiet and serene in my dream, and let the boat fall over the wide clear water and abdomen in my dream. I stayed all the way, looking at the sky, unveiling my mysterious veil, looking up at the sky with fog, whispering clouds and egrets, flying in the universe, insects, birds and animals infested with weeds, miscellaneous trees, dying, blending with the fragrance of the soil, quietly stepping on the source of life, no more noise. Invite the mountain wind to sing, dance with the waves and cheer with the stars, and play a song lightly. The dream garden washes away my heavy lead, gently takes away a piece of dust when I come, and gently takes away a piece of auspicious cloud "bamboo" when I leave-crossing is just your unchanging ambition to ascend to heaven along a hard link, and only green is the sentence you want to say all your life. In the biography of loyal ministers, you can read that drinking ice and snow has finally become your whole life, although occasionally you like to dress up and put on ink clothes to see Zheng Banqiao's paintings. However, the wind is good at attacking your thin shadow with all framed words. Even in the coldest dynasty, you still stood upright and insisted on standing in the rain. Parents and brothers are always so stubborn that they won't break their heads.