Love is sweet, but it is also bitter. Here I bring you seven modern poems about love. Welcome to read them! What are the modern poems about love?
1. A Flowering Tree
How can you meet me at my most beautiful moment?
I have been begging the Buddha for this for 5 years,
begging him to let us have a dusty relationship.
The Buddha then turned me into a tree,
growing on the roadside where you must pass,
the sun was carefully full of flowers,
all the flowers were my hopes in my previous life.
When you come near, please listen carefully.
That trembling leaf is my enthusiasm for waiting.
And when you finally walk by without paying attention,
It falls behind you ...
My friend, it's not a petal.
It's my withered heart!
2. To the Oak
If I love you,
I will never be like a climbing campbell,
I will show off myself with your tall branches;
If I love you,
I will never learn from spoony birds,
I will repeat simple songs for the shade;
It's not just like a fountain,
It brings cool comfort all the year round;
It's not just like a dangerous peak.
It increases your height and
sets off your prestige.
even sunlight.
even spring rain.
no,
these are not enough!
I must be a kapok near you,
standing with you as the image of a tree.
roots,
clinging to the ground,
leaves,
touching in the clouds.
Every time the wind blows,
we all greet each other,
but no one understands our words.
You have your copper branches and iron stems,
Like a knife, like a sword, and like a halberd;
I have my red flowers,
like a heavy sigh,
like a heroic torch,
we share the cold wave, storm and thunderbolt;
We * * * enjoy the mist, flowing haze and rainbow.
it seems that we are separated forever, but
we are dependent on each other for life.
This is the great love.
Here is the loyalty:
Love,
Not only your stalwart body,
but also your position,
the land under your feet.
3. When you are old
When you are old, your head turns white,
you are sleepy,
you doze off by the fire,
Please take down this poem,
read it slowly,
recall the softness of your eyes in the past,
recall their heavy shadows in the past;
How many people love your youthful exuberance,
the beauty of adore you,
hypocrisy or sincerity,
only one person loves your pilgrim soul,
loves the painful wrinkles on your aging face;
I hung my head,
By the glowing red stove,
I whispered sadly about the loss of love,
On the mountain overhead, I slowly paced,
I hid my face among a group of stars.
4. The Beautiful Girl in the Gallery
There are still life paintings of vegetables and you watching it,
so quiet.
The colors in that still life painting tremble with their own intensity.
what can they do without light?
stranger,
I like that you stand so quietly in the intensity of the light you are carrying.
5. The End of the Episode
We will never immerse ourselves in this sweet and sour past time again;
The aperture of love then covered you,
Dear, and me.
I can't find the place where we were closely dependent at the beginning.
At that time, the place where we met in love was empty.
those flowers and fragrant air,
will they remember our coming at this time?
Will those night birds scream,
and find that we used to wander here?
Although we have made fervent vows, although we have had unforgettable joys,
Suffering after the limit of revelry is judged today.
deep trauma;
no moaning: laughing with broken voice;
but stubbornly patient;
this road of love is harder than a hard stone.
6. Worry
says it's the clear sorrow of lonely autumn, and
says it's the lovesickness of the distant sea.
If someone asks me about my worries,
I dare not say your name.
I dare not say your name.
If someone asks me about my worries,
it's acacia in the distant sea,
it's clear sorrow in lonely autumn.
7. Monologue
Under the denuded colonnade,
Between the dream and nothingness,
The voice of your name penetrated into my sleepless hours.
Your long reddish hair,
lightning in summer,
ups and downs on the back of the night with sweet and violent power.
The dark water in the dream is flowing among the ruins,
From nothingness, you are formed:
The braid of pain has been forgotten.
On the wet shore in the night,
Chen Zhe is patting a sleepwalking ocean, and
nothing is seen.