Ask for some beautiful poems, about twenty or thirty crosses in one sentence, a little longer, thank you! Urgent! ! !

I wrote it in heaven. My hate is too short to resist lingering love. What I want is a gentle look, an oath full of the world of mortals, smiling at the lonely city, never getting old for a thousand years, drunk with the Chinese robe in Tsing Yi, unable to see through love stories, and old today.

Loneliness becomes lovelorn, people are not at the end of their lives, water dew becomes frost again, stubborn ink and painters break yellowed paper, fleeting tears are flowing, the night is still young, wrapped in faded despair, lighthouses will sing in lonely cities, men whistle uniforms, initial faces, that year, you were by your side.