Ask for some short poems, and write the meaning of each poem ... where is the author? ...

The most is the gentleness of that bow.

Like a lotus flower, I am too ashamed to enjoy the cold.

Take care, take care,

There is sweet sadness in the treasure.

-Shane Nora

-Xu Zhimo

Rain Alley

Author: Dai Wangshu

Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone

Wandering in the long, long

Lonely rain lane,

I hope to see

Like cloves.

A girl with a grudge.

She does.

Clove-like color,

Lilac-like fragrance,

Sad as cloves,

Mourning in the rain,

Sadness and hesitation;

She lingers in this lonely rain lane,

Hold an oil-paper umbrella

Like me,

Like me.

Walking silently,

Cold, sad, melancholy.

She approached quietly.

Get close and throw again.

Breathing eyes,

She floated by.

Like a dream,

As sad and confused as a dream.

Floating like a dream

A lilac field,

I passed this girl by;

She left quietly, left,

A crumbling fence,

Walk through this rainy path.

In the lamentation of the rain,

Remove her color,

Spread her fragrance,

Disappeared, even hers

Breathing eyes,

Lilac is melancholy.

Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone

Wandering in the long, long

Lonely rain lane,

I hope to float over.

Like cloves.

A girl with a grudge.

Out of context-Bian Zhilin

You stand on the bridge and watch the scenery.

The landscape observer is watching you upstairs.

The bright moon decorated your window,

You decorated other people's dreams.

After the rain

Author: Xi Murong

Life can also be a poem.

If you can let me move on slowly

Quietly looking forward to finding

The dusk in my arms is getting deeper and deeper.

Through the unknown mud

In the dark clouds

Finally shed tears for everyone

Missed or not missed encounters

In fact, life can always be a poem in the end.

After the rainstorm

My mind will be cleaner.

If you are willing to wait

All the floating clouds

Author: Yu Guangzhong

Works: Listening to the night in the mountains

Content:

Forever mountain night

Everything is like a dream.

What could be better than complete silence?

More resistant to listening?

No matter how long and busy the history is.

There will always be a moment.

There's no need to argue, is there?

But what about the wind? you said

Wind? That's the transit of time

Occasionally a little

A little echo

Shu Ting's << To Oak Tree >>

If I love you-/I will never learn to climb the Campbell flower,/I will show off myself on your high branch;

/If I love you-/Never learn from spoony birds,/Repeat monotonous songs for the shade;

/It's not just like a fountain/It brings cool comfort all year round; /Not just like a dangerous mountain peak,

/increase your height,/set off your dignity. /even sunshine/even spring rain

No, these are not enough. I must be a kapok beside you.

/Stand with you as the image of a tree. /root, clenched in the ground;

/Leaves, lingering in the clouds. Every time a gust of wind blows, we greet each other.

But no one understands us. You have your copper branches and iron stems.

/Like a knife, like a sword, like a halberd; /I have my red flowers,/like a heavy sigh,

/Like a heroic torch/We share the cold wave and lightning;

/We * * * enjoy the misty rainbow; /seemingly separated forever, but they are dependent for life.

/This is great love,/Loyalty is here/Love/Not only your stalwart body,

/I also love your stand,/the land under your feet.

A generation

Gu Cheng

The night gave me black eyes,

I use it to find the light.