What are Xi Murong's good poems?

Xi Murong's Youth Without Complaints. No matter how long or short you have been in love, if you can always be gentle with each other, then all the moments will be flawless and beautiful. If you have to part, say goodbye and thank him for giving you a memory. When you grow up, you will know that when you look back suddenly, there will be no regrets in youth without resentment, such as the quiet full moon on the mountain. The Value of Poetry If you suddenly ask me why I write poetry and why I don't do something useful, then I don't know how to answer. I am like a goldsmith, beating day and night, just to extend my pain into a gold ornament as thin as a cicada's wing. I don't know if there is a good value in trying to turn the source of sadness into shining and soft words, such as an andante. There must be something I can't understand, otherwise how can there be vegetation? There must be something I can't do. Otherwise, how can the alternation of day and night be so fast? All the moments missed the sadness. There must be something in my heart that I have to give up after the fallen leaves have returned to their roots. Is it a diary at the age of sixteen or a lily-like secret that has been hidden for a lifetime? The feast of love is getting weaker and weaker. My heart was inexplicably sad before I mentioned it. However, the banquet that never ends in my memory can't be finished. What I hope is actually just that moment. I never asked you to give me your life. If I can meet you on the hillside full of gardenias, if I can love you once and leave you once, then a long life is just a moment to look back. The young heart will never look back, nor will it be an ancient day. The light at night is not just the stars and the moon. Although I still open the window to visit every morning, there will still be the fragrance of jasmine every summer, but I have lost something in the crowded street, and there will be the fragrance of jasmine in my young heart, but I have lost something in the crowded street and will never meet mussels and pearls again. Eliminate the existence of that scar, so you wrap the past layer by layer with warm tears, but the memory is getting brighter and brighter in your arms. Every turn touches a sore spot, making you look back and die in a silent deep sea. Beautiful dreams, like beautiful poems, are elusive and often appear at the most unexpected moments. I like that kind of dream, everything can start again, everything can be explained slowly, and I can even feel in my heart that all the wasted time can actually return to ecstasy and gratitude. My heart is full of happiness, just because you are right in front of my eyes and smiling at me, that's all. I really like that dream. I know you have traveled thousands of miles for me, but you think the grass is delicious. I am falling behind, as if you and I just met. Origin and fate are in the lotus, and I have entrusted my whole life to you. There is nothing to consider and calculate in time. Yes, there is nothing we need to arrange. When you look back at that thousand-layer lotus leaf, many things have been decided since then. In that afternoon of flowers, in that afternoon of painting lotus flowers, in front of the lotus flowers in the new rain, if you don't look back, I can take anything. This theme can be painted as a completely different sketch or watercolor painting. My life could have been different. If you just walked quietly in front of the new rain on that July afternoon, if you didn't turn around and wake up in a strange city, your name is still on your lips, my love, I have left you thousands of miles away. I also know that flowers only bloom once in the flower season of 16, but I still care about the whiteness of the skirt. What I care about is the feeling of being praised, spoiled and comforted. The golden dream net blocked the foreign wind and frost for me. Love used to be a kind of wine, but it turned into missing. In a strange city, raise a glass every night until you are sixteen. I doubt whether I really love you. Don't I love the youth that is gone forever, the flower that withered before it opened, and the flower that was abandoned before it was painted, in such a hasty summer? Painting and such casual parting, am I really in love with you? Otherwise, how could I fall in love with such an unbearable problem of youth? I've been thinking about a problem all my life. When I was young, I was like a shy bud, but I couldn't open my mouth. I left, but seeing you tonight hindered me. My white hair is ridiculous. Unfortunately, I still have to spend my whole life thinking about a problem. I can tell you the answers first, but I love them, and I'm afraid some answers will have to wait for a long time until all the questions are forgotten. At that time, whether to answer or not, or what to answer, will no longer be so important, if, if you must know. If you still have to know, please go back slowly and rummage carefully. On that young night, something, something, once attacked our fragile and sensitive hearts. On that young night, the moonlight was so clear, as clear as water. I believe that the essence of love is like the simplicity and gentleness of life. I believe that all the light and shadow are mutually reflecting and congenial. I believe that the flowers full of trees only come from a seed in the ice and snow. I believe that 300 poems repeatedly tell only one sentence, which I couldn't say when I was young. I believe that God has arranged everything. I also believe that if you are willing to return to that distant and humble source with me, we will eventually be together. Understanding the mountains and the moon-one of the old works. In the mountains, pine forests are outlined like waves and moonlight. You said with a smile that this is not loose. It is far-reaching, black and transparent, blue, a little light blue and a silvery white, and that light green reflects you in the forest. You are hospitable in your forest because you are a rich man with many stories in the mountains, stars in the forest and legendary sika deer in the forest. You are very careful when you speak. Don't say that word to me. I'm waiting for patience like a fossil, but the moonlight makes me deaf. At midnight, the mountain wind kept coming in the ancient forest. Lily is pale. The moon-the second old work-I once set foot on the moon, but I still see your smiling face in the tears I tell tonight, because you are in the mountains. It's getting dark, and my China Year is gone. I think, in the next spring return in the forest, there will still be a strong you to help me go upstairs, the moonlight is like water, the grass is growing, sad and moving. Third, please listen to a businesswoman singing in the backyard under the moon (you must cry when singing). Rain and snow are like rain and tears (am I a businesswoman singing? ) I don't know what kind of twists and turns there are in the Millennium dream. Five hundred years ago, did a woman come to song for you with tears in her eyes, and the moonlight was like wine, full of youth and no regrets? She once made a very gentle promise to me, that round of mountain and moon photos. But her young and bright face in the forest brought me a fragrant moment of all my sadness and loneliness today In the painful crowd in Long song, does she know that I am still the one who has no regrets and doesn't want to be estranged and let tears touch my dearest face? So in this dark moment, I quietly retired. Please forgive me for not saying goodbye and trying to hide you in the deepest corner until someone is one year old. When she was asleep, he walked on the road of melting snow, longing for the ancient stars, hiding in front of the river where the ice blocks collided, and he walked on the road of melting snow, longing for the ancient stars, whispering her name in front of the river where the ice blocks collided, at night in the south of China. It was the usual silence, except for a few tired petals falling on her window because of the wind, which rolled up four warnings. In fact, this pen is already there. In order to give us a timely warning, it came earlier than any of us. We finally came hand in hand, but we didn't know that the pen had been waiting for a long time. We believe that all happiness and happiness should be, it is not surprising that the mountain is blue and the water is green. If we are willing to really love each other, we will never be apart. In fact, Pen Pen existed a long time ago, but the sea breeze blew me white and the years were long. Young heart, I can't understand the anxiety and sadness of pen and pen. Tears will never forget the tears in your eyes reflecting the moonlight in the clouds. It rained last night, and the rain hit the barren grave in the distant mountain. The small acacia forest casts a blue shadow over your grave. This morning, the sun was shining, and Laura climbed the barren grave in the distant mountain. Wind Buddha of Gentle Valley, wipe the grass on your grave. Who will go to the grave to identify the broken tombstone at dusk? I only remember that when I cried, I was facing the sunset. Pick a plant with the most grass at random and put down a bunch of hyacinthus orientalis. I shouldn't cry, knowing that it's not necessarily you buried in the ground. Why cry for secular people? This long dream has been awake for hundreds of years. I hope that reality will become an ancient fairy tale. You will sleep for a hundred years, and I will accompany you to let wild roses bloom on us, let red-breasted birds nest in our hair, and let fallen leaves rest in our clothes. But it will be a century in the blink of an eye. It's just that the shadow of the distant mountain swallowed up your melancholy heart and mine. I walked back through the pine forest, where there was a vague deer shadow. What flowers are blooming on the road? Why does Yuehua travel with tears every night? Tomorrow, there will be gentle and solemn moonlight on the mountain, and melancholy thunder from the deep valley will cover my eyes. Goodbye, I love to let me cross this strange valley alone, where there is a deeply depressed space. I used to cry and confess. Don't write these again. Strange poems remind you that you don't want to be a poet in this life, but my love is so beautiful. How can my heart not be full of poetry? My poem is like a broken pearl, but every bead is as soft as ever. I can't stop my thoughts at the tip of my pen, just like the endless spring rain. Although it will rain and muddy the streets, it will also wash away jasmine's little flower heart. Let me believe that this is my story, dear, which seems to make me take pictures. Flowers bloom and fall is the history of the whole spring. If you can forget it, then I should also keep all my tears in my heart, or decorate them with the boundless sky at night in Xia Na. When the wind blows, I just casually tighten my clothes to protect my singing heart, so that Qiu Lai can't eavesdrop on the four of them, because they can't grow in the snow. I can't talk about that hope all my life. I am a transplanted conifer, dear. You are the hometown of winter in the far north. Why can I lock my heart, but not my love and sadness? Why does the joy at first sight always fade in a long life? The most urgent thing is the most beautiful time. When I guessed the answer, I found that the party was over and everything was over. When the banquet broke up, everyone went away. You were in the middle of the crowd, and it was too late to recognize you. You will never meet again. But just now, the garden was sunny and full of laughter, but I couldn't go in. They gave me a riddle, let me guess and get it right, so that I can meet you and give me a long-awaited love. When I guessed the answer, I found that it was all over, and the years had already changed the puzzle. Peach blossoms bloom one after another along the deserted mountain road and fall in front of the mirror. Women stare at their fragrant beauty in the mirror for a long time, wet season, soft heart, which is the kind of love youth that people often have no time to recall-thirdly, I love looking back at the mountain road at that time tonight and find that our days have passed and gone in a completely different way. The vision that was planned so enthusiastically, the blueprint that was drawn so carefully and accurately, and the longing for its youth never came. The secret of epiphyllum always passes by in the morning after withering, and you will find out how beautiful and lonely I was outside your window last night. Only I know how far you missed the bright moon last night. The two extremely high ridges are far apart, but I can hear your gentle voice. The canyon is steep and foggy. Be careful. You said we were on a ridge where we couldn't take a wrong step, so even if we were so far away, you wouldn't indulge me. I always keep the commandments I made on that young night. Be careful. You say we can't make a mistake, but sometimes you can be strict. If I suddenly forget, I will come back to tell the news of the lotus and the traces of the mountains and moons. How can I answer you? The forest fire has been put out, and my suffocating heart finally falls from a height. You are still urging us to be careful. We can't make a mistake. All the years have become illusory myths. Let it be lush and blooming, and finally fall in the dizziness of falling. Who can give me a satisfaction? Say goodbye to the answer. If you are isolated on a high ridge, it is a mistake from the beginning, then why is it so beautiful? Bai Niao's death, if you are the tearful shooter, I am the Bai Niao who is determined not to dodge any more, just waiting for the arrow to break into my broken heart. If you are the only shooter in the world who can hurt me, I am all the unforgettable joys and sorrows in your youth. Like the last cloud hidden in the infinite blue sky, let me die in your hands, as if I could finally die in your arms, creating a wanderer. One day you will see through my heart under the light. The night outside the window is deep and quiet, as if everything had passed. The hustle and bustle of youth, dust and mountains, wind and waves have all stopped, and a year has finally passed. The night fog is long outside the window, and all the joys and sorrows are like butterflies. No matter how stubbornly I wait for you, I can only leave you a thin collection of poems. Looking back at this moment, in our world, time is longitude, space is latitude, and a series of joys and sorrows are carefully woven and very regular. In every corner and every knot, there is actually a secret code. At that time, we were at a loss, but when we looked back, we suddenly found that all the veins were vivid, and then smiled and understood the pain and sadness. At the moment of looking back, time stays and never dies. The stream flowing under the shade of ferns and wild peonies is still young, the sky is full of clouds, and my heart is full of your love and care for me. At the crossroads, if I really loved you, I won't forget it. Of course, I still have to walk quietly, saying that the weather is really good and the wind is very soft. I can smile wearily in the sunset and say that life is really ordinary without twists and turns and troubles. But if I really loved you, I won't forget that it was at this crossroads that you and I waved away the clothes of youth, and I let a clear river bypass the sandbar you set up. In that sunny summer afternoon with white clouds, your green clothes are swaying in the wind, reflecting on my heart, like gentle grass, with sweet pain. I often review that I will never return to this life, and I will never meet you again. I know that winter will come, and reeds will wither the joys and sorrows on both sides, leaving only the stars in the distant horizon. Before it freezes, I will flow into the sea, and I will leave you at the bottom of the dark and lonely sea. I don't want to grow old like this just because I think of you and your youthful green clothes. It's just that I keep urging you to take you away from me day and night, to a distance that I can't reach. The emptiness and reality of tragedy are not ancient. If you are really old, how can you have a great ecstasy when you meet again at this moment? So, if you hesitate to look back, don't really forget the moonlight. You can have such tenderness in your eyes, but you don't seem to really care. If you really miss it like that, how can you smile, shake hands and say goodbye and quietly watch you leave me again? A fragrant mountain lily blooms quietly in my heart, and no one knows its existence. Only my wanderer always smiles on the lonely road. Think about it, artist. You washed my pen with tears so that I can draw a pool of misty rain tonight. In the fragrant corner of my heart, you carved a lotus flower for me that will never fade. If I dream, I love who is real, who is empty and where I will go forever. Just say it. Say you love me or not. Just choose those difficult words and sort them out again and again. Just say it, letizia. I will understand your feelings. You can change, you can become happy, and you can become indifferent. You can try all kinds of complicated masks and take some tortuous paths. You can do it. Letizia, I will understand your feelings. I only know letizia. Although things change and people are unpredictable among friends, you are my first and last love. In the distant starry sky, I am yours. I am your forever wanderer. I will spend my wandering life. Quietly guarding your happiness and your gentle mood, letizia is wandering in the corridor of the stars, thinking of you but unable to convey the feelings of the wanderer. Letizia, can you understand that if the people in front of the seventh volume can be reincarnated, if there is reincarnation in the world, then, my love, what is our previous life? If you are a woman picking lotus in Jiangnan, I am the one you miss under your wrist. If you are the urchin who plays truant, I am the brand-new marble that falls out of your schoolbag, watching you go away unconsciously in the grass by the roadside. If I were a monk with a wall, I would be a burning incense in front of the temple and spend a quiet time with you. So when we meet in this life, we always feel a little unfinished, just in a trance, unable to distinguish carefully and tell you one by one. Experiments-one, they say that putting a small piece of alum in the water can precipitate all the dregs, so if we put a poem in our hearts, can we also precipitate all yesterday's experiments-the other, in chemistry class, there is a test paper that turns red in acid and blue in alkali. I hope I can have a test paper in my life, and try out all the joys and sorrows intertwined in front of me first. What is the long wait for comedy? If you finally appear after Qian Fan (there will always be a moment), when Qian Fan finishes you, your smile is so real and incredible in the oblique light. Bai Zhou, I only have a sad and happy heart to find that everything yesterday is an indispensable arrangement just for you to hold me in your arms gently and pitifully at this moment (I may cry). Maybe not. ) When Qian Fan is finished and you come, I will hide all my bitterness in the white boat, which still floats like a cloud. After a burst of sadness, it is like a cloud. You must forgive me. You must forgive women's unreasonable sadness and Zen-one of them is that when you leave silently, you have forgotten what you said or didn't say, and I have caught my cry. On the page, it seems that a few jasmine flowers when we were young may fall from the accidentally opened title page at dusk many years later, and there will be no fragrance and no sound outside the window. There may be fine rain and meditation at that time-second, when it's all over, I know I will slowly unload the baggage you have forgotten. Please forgive me. Life should be constantly injured and restored. The world or the world. Waiting for my mature orchard gently, such a blue tree and such a green life could have been so quiet and beautiful. I've always wanted to walk with you and walk that beautiful road with you. There are soft winds and white clouds, and you are by my side, listening to my happy and grateful heart. My request is actually very small, as long as I live such a summer, as long as I live such a time. And what comes to me day after day are unexpected arrangements, and there are so many trivial mistakes that I finally understand tonight. All the joys and sorrows have become ashes, and I can't walk with you on any road in the world. After this moment, there has been an unfinished sentence in the ancient and simple time, such as the running water day and night is the moonlight of mountains and seas, which repeatedly makes my weak heart look forward to never finding a place to live. At this time, you finished it with the silent voice of the scenery, but I found in the uncontrollable tears that after this moment, my youth finally left and never came back to the mountain road. I seem to have promised to be with you. Let's walk on that beautiful mountain road together. You said the slope was full of fresh tea and acacia. I seem to have promised you to comb my first wisp of white hair under the lamp on a distant spring afternoon tonight. Suddenly remembered some unfulfilled promises and some inexplicable sadness. Are you still waiting for me on that mountain road? I am eager to look around and drink drinking songs. Let's drink to the arrival of love. This is the only way. This is an incredible sweetness, which disappears when blown away. How to describe who will believe in toasting and loving each other? When it left, it was the only thing I could do. In the season of abundance, I sang a song in Kubinashi because of falling flowers, loneliness and your looking back, but suddenly it started because of the curtain, the lights and everyone's applause. Only then did I find that my song turned out to be a brilliant temptation in this play, and finally I knew what temptation was in this autumn when the leaves were about to fall. It always appears in a beautiful posture, which is a fate I can't accept or refuse. No matter which choice I make, I deeply regret it. On the day when the leaves finally fall, the woman had a dream of returning to the spring, but she couldn't go back, although I could. That night, the moon, the road and the street trees of the same color have sprouted, but I can't go back. When all the questions can't be asked, it's useless to give me beautiful answers (I once hoped so). Moonlight, like water, is a waste. I really can't go back. It's best to shake hands with you here (is it the same place as that? Please understand my helplessness from my smile and heart when I come back every spring. In this way, I lowered my head and said goodbye to the sad wild wind. Which rivers in the world can really turn back? Just like the grassland meets and withers together in autumn, let's meet and hate each other. Only the strong wind always refuses to stop, always rushing in the forest beside the mountain and sweeping through my mottled heart. Those memories falling like autumn leaves, please don't cry I don't have a poem. There are no flying flowers and no drizzle in the dusty season. Please don't cry. All kinds of helpless love embers have been extinguished and returned to the world. Suddenly, I woke up and followed the crowd. Go to the end with a smile. Please try to forget my fragile heart. Please stop crying. When spring comes again, the forgotten wild lilies will still grow in the same valley. There will still be the fragrance of the past under the shade, but no one will remember us, remember our joys and sorrows. Time passed, leaving only a few anonymous poems and a faint sunset. The last sentence, no matter how beautiful and long we meet, we will end up in the same way. It is time to say goodbye. At the head of this ancient ferry, it is already dusk. It's time to say goodbye You hold my hand gently, and I wait silently, waiting for fate to separate us. Please forgive me, please forgive me. Dear friend, you gave me your wandering life, but I can only give you a thin collection of poems. At dusk, my tears fell on the sand and I wrote the last sentence. If there is an afterlife, please pay attention to finding a woman who writes poems on the beach. Aria Whether I miss Lacrimosa or say goodbye to you with a smile, life is an inseparable performance. When the light shines, I will sing the most difficult scene. Please hold your breath and listen, and then cheer for the person I love all my life. After the song, whether I want to say goodbye to you in tears or with a smile, I will be glad that the poems and feelings I shared with you under the same lamp were not born in an instant. The life of changing bones is a temptation again and again. Please wait patiently for me. I love to let the day and night alternate in the past and let the white hair grow day by day. Let's change our mood slowly, so that the desire to burn the whole spring and summer will eventually go out and be replaced by an indifferent and fading acid. The moon has come out, so we can no longer open the door to visit, and finally we can shine into all the mountains and forests. I often imagine that after dusk. Will you suddenly stop and think of me when you walk on the street corner? Who will pay attention to your suddenly dark face in the crowded crowd? Dear friend, who can know the instant pain in your heart? Who can tell you my guilt and sadness today? The lights are as bright as those of two cities so far away. Plant lilies in the garden, and plant a song in your heart to let you relive the beginning. From reality to emptiness, from gathering to scattering, the topics we have learned in our life are from shallow to deep, from easy to difficult, and beautiful mood. If life is a speeding train, happiness and sadness are closely following my two tracks, and all the moments are hasty and vague, unless you can stop far away and look back, only when you look back can you have a clear and sour feeling, so only when you look back. Only when it is too late can we come up with a good mood without regrets. Let's go back to the original loneliness. Let's use a long and extremely ordinary life to prove that all curious and lively people are bored, and those who have been bothering us and waiting for a wonderful ending will refund their tickets and disperse. Only in this way can we return to the original loneliness. By that time, there will be only empty mountains and no one on the stage. There will only be sunny weather, birds and flowers. At that time, white-haired vagrants, please listen to each other in the wind and clouds. It is the young and warm voice that makes us no longer confused. If rain remains after rain and sorrow remains after sorrow, please let me face this parting calmly and continue to look for it with a smile. Find another impossible pen you gave me. If you can allow me to hold my breath in this extremely silent moment between the ebb and flow of the tide, if you can allow me to write a sentence after my death, those two white waterfowl are still hovering in the bow and flying on the gray-purple hillside of the sea, and there is a faint gardenia fragrance floating from three turns in my life, each time it is the same gentle dusk. We have to give in to it in tears. Between the ebb and flow of the tide, on the clean sandbar, my heart is full of sadness, but my pen writer, please allow me to stop writing. From now on, you are my last word. Maybe some people won't forget each other because of this.