Two suggestions:
Believe in the future
forefinger
When cobwebs mercilessly sealed my stove.
When the smoke of ashes sighs the sorrow of poverty
I still stubbornly smooth away the ashes of disappointment.
Write with beautiful snowflakes: believe in the future.
When my purple grapes turn into dew in late autumn
When my flowers snuggle up to other people's feelings
I still stubbornly use frosted vines.
Write on the desolate land: believe in the future.
I want to use my fingers to stir the waves that rush to the horizon.
I want to hold the sun in my hand.
The warm and beautiful pen flickers with the dawn.
Write with a child's pen: believe in the future.
I believe in the future.
Yes, I believe that people's eyes in the future
She brushed away the eyelashes of history.
She has a student who can read through the years.
No matter what people think of our rotting bodies.
Those lost blues, the pain of failure.
It was tears of emotion and deep sympathy.
Or give a contemptuous smile and bitter ridicule?
I firmly believe that people are interested in our spine.
Countless explorations, lost ways, failures and successes.
I will definitely give a warm, objective and fair evaluation.
Yes, I am anxiously waiting for their comments.
Friends, believe in the future.
Believe in indomitable efforts
Young people who believe in overcoming death.
Believe in the future and love life.
Variations on the Stars by He Jiang
If every corner of the earth is full of light
Who needs a star? Who will?
Gaze at the night
Looking for distant comfort
Who wouldn't?
every day
It's all a poem
Every word is a star.
Like a bee trembling in my heart.
Who doesn't want to have a soft night?
Soft as a lake.
Fireflies and stars swim in the water lily.
Who doesn't like spring? Birds are littered with branches.
Like falling stars all over the sky
The flickering sound came from a distance.
The clouds of white lilacs are hazy.
If every corner of the earth is full of light
Who needs a star? Who will?
Burning loneliness in the cold
Ask for a little hope
Who would?
year after year
Always writing poems about suffering.
Every capital is a group of trembling stars.
Like ice and snow in my heart
Who wants to see the night freeze?
As stiff as a piece of land
The wind blew off one thin star after another.
Who doesn't like flying flags but fire?
Golden stars gushed out.
When the stars in the sky are tired, they rise.
To illuminate places where the sun can't shine.
It is said that the world is a good novel website, and you deserve it.