Modern poems with the theme of longing are as follows:
1. (Japan) Izumi Shikibu "Poetry for My Daughter"
Why do you escape into the void? ?Even brittle snow falls in this world when it falls.
2. (France) Victor Hugo's "Tomorrow, as soon as the day breaks"
Tomorrow, as soon as the day breaks and the fields are lightly illuminated, I will set off. Look, I know you're waiting for me. I will walk through the forest, I will climb over the mountains and ridges, I will not be able to stay away from your presence forever. I will drink and meditate, turning a blind eye to everything, hearing nothing, walking alone with my arms crossed and my back hunched over, no one knows.
I am very sad. I feel that the day is like midnight. I will not look at the golden clouds in the evening. I will not gaze at the distant shadow of the lonely sail in Havel Harbor. When I arrive in front of your grave , I would put a bunch of blooming heather and green holly.
3. Let Dong Qing's "Summer Thoughts"
Let me hold a summer rain to nourish your long-suffering heart; let me catch a ray of cool breeze to blow away your The whole body is tired; let me open a clear spring and give you endless sweetness; let me pick a lotus to warm your beautiful smile. All this is given to you to give you a refreshing summer.
My longing comes from the summer when I met you, in the pavilion, by the pond, holding hands while sheltering from the rain. Your bright smile is like jade and the moon; your white clothes are like lotus and clouds; your beautiful voice is like playing the strings of a piano. From now on, thousands of greetings will never end.
4. "Missing Friends on a Moonlit Night" by Wu Aixiang
Tonight, when the moon rises, the bright moon of the Tang Dynasty is still at the window, visiting me as I read tirelessly. You called me by my nickname to recognize me. At this moment, the gate of memory has never been closed again. That year, that month, that person, and those youthful past events are not as good as smoke.
Those seeds sown in spring, with their green voices, greened the poetic countryside, the vast plains, and the hometown of the sea, and the swaying poetry was accompanied by the fragrance of laurel. That is my home, my lost youth. In the deepest part of the mortal world, you are the only one that is irreplaceable in this life, and I am willing to wait for you. The full moon is painting, and the missing moon is poetry.