What are Xi Murong's poems? Be specific.

Dear friends, please don't have any misunderstanding about changing people's faces. We are makeup artists ourselves. I heard a song on a young night. As clear and touching as a mountain wind blowing through a lily. When I longed again, I was silent and disappeared. There is nowhere to stay in the moonlight. One evening after twenty years, what is similar to that night? Mountains and canyons should force my heart to look back on the road I have traveled. The swaying half-life is bumpy and has turned into a sweet tear in the evening. Why should I love you? The sea has overflowed the beach of my life and retreated in such a hurry. I rolled up my youth and filled the sky. The starry sky is still a tree under my feet. This is not yesterday's water. The wind is clear and the clouds are light. Wild lilies are scattered at the top of dusk. Who can turn into a laurel tree in the moonlight and escape from missing every night? Song of the Wanderer: I miss you and that summer afternoon. I smiled and walked slowly out of the depths of the forest. The song of the lotus wanderer is in the wilderness of a foreign land. I am a drop of remorseful snowmelt, thrown into a mountain stream, then into a stream, across the plain, and then into a big lake, in exchange for lonely years. In this frozen country thousands of miles away, I always think of the golden sunshine in the southern Fusang, one afternoon after another, and my profligate youth. Why don't you say something in my heart to that girl with a round face and a smile? Today, I am a drop of remorseful snowmelt, which turns into Chihiro Waterfall at the end of wandering and roars from my torn chest. My lost lover, the lone star, has a lonely star in the sky. A traveler in the dark will always look back and imagine that it was his first love. Jasmine seems to have no seasons. It doesn't seem to make any difference to miss you on a night with little Xianglei. During the day, at night, at every trance moment, all the endings of youth have been written and all the tears have begun, but suddenly I forgot what it was like to start in that ancient summer that is gone forever. No matter how much I pursue young you, you just pass by like a cloud, and your smiling face is shallow and gradually disappears into the haze after sunset. When I opened the yellow title page, fate bound it badly with tears. I have read it again and again, but I have to admit that Youth is a sloppy book. The second part of youth suddenly remembered her young eyes on the night of forty-five and the summer of sixteen. The sun outside the forest is dazzling, and her skirt is so white. I still remember the hills full of tea trees, the sky full of clouds and the cicadas in silence. The silkworm in the forest will have gorgeous wings, and you will wait for this life forever. I am willing to be a lonely spring silkworm in a golden cocoon and look forward to a promise of the afterlife. I miss you in the summer afternoon and miss you in that summer afternoon. It is my lotus that walks out of the forest with a smile. It is my tenderest and most painful part, and it is my sacred, distant and untouchable New Year pole. May the fate of Pompeii melt all the most beautiful things in an instant, make them an eternal mold, and let them be embedded in your hearts and mine for thousands of years. How can I want to see you again? When my youth is still hidden in your heart, clear as water. I am a blooming Xia Lian. I hope you can see that my wind and frost have not eroded me. The autumn rain has not dropped, and the green season has left me. I'm not worried or scared. Now is the most beautiful moment, but behind the fragrant smile, the heavy door has been locked. Who knows that my lotus heart misses you? It's either too early or too late to pick up a friend's book. It is not only the late spring that fails, but also the forgotten faces of you and me. It was a dusty day, and a dusty night rushed to my eyes. I thought I had hidden you in the depths of the past and in my cold heart. I thought that as long as I didn't say anything, as long as the days went on, you would eventually become an ancient secret, but the sleepless night was still too long, and my early white hair revealed my sad short poem. When I am old, when all my friends see the wind and frost in my hair, how can I want to see you again? When only my youth is still hidden in your heart, it is as clear as water and lush as a mountain. If we can return to the mountains in summer, and if God allows us to meet again, let the fern Harrison grow greener and the stream flow like jade. At that time, nothing happened and there were no signs. Far Morning is a sketch with little pen and ink. If I had known I couldn't forget you, I wouldn't have been careless. I will try my best to carve the ancient summer I first met, to carve a complicated and exquisite copper plate. I will cherish every notch. If I know that I will never forget this rumor, if all my wanderings are because of me, how can I not love your weather-beaten face? If the world is miserable, you have tasted what I can do for myself. I don't love your haggard heart. They say you are old, rock-solid and extremely cold, but no one knows that I am still the softest corner in your heart, with tears and unreachable choices. If I just want to meet you once in my next life, just for all the sweetness and sadness at that moment of hundreds of millions of light years, then let everything that should happen appear in an instant. Let me bow down and thank all the stars for helping me meet you. You leave, finish writing a poem written by God, then grow old and get together again. I don't want to miss it, but I do it all the time. I will miss the flowery yesterday and the reunion today. One of the lights is on, but the moment you and I look at each other, we are already haggard. Who heard heartbreak? So much has happened. After so many nights, only moonlight can be the same as before tonight. Dear friends, although we are beautiful, we can't retreat or move forward. We have nothing in this life and want nothing. I just want to embroider a page of continuous and dense paintings in our hearts. There is a needle in sadness and pain. Second, we meet again on the snowy road. At the moment of coma, before the boundary of life and death, there was only one regret in his heart. This kind of life can no longer exist. When I met her on a warm spring night, between the fullness and emptiness of a cup of coffee, he revealed the secret to her so coldly and quietly, but it added a sadness to her. After parting, I will never forget the portrait of the tree. When the smile on the wind is no longer fragrant and gentle, the words are silent. When the pupils of the stars are getting colder and darker, the paths in Qian Shan are extinct. I am just a lonely tree, resisting the arrival of autumn. Sad song I'll never see you again in my life. It's not what you see in your heart. It's just the vicissitudes of the sun and the moon. Please don't believe my beauty and my love. I have a player's heart under my face, so please don't take my sadness seriously and don't break my heart with my performance. Dear friends, I will always be just a player in the story with others in my life. I have tears in my eyes. Please look at me again. Looking back in the storm, staring at my face tonight. Please remember this moment firmly. Just for turning around after this moment, you and I will become strangers. Another year, in an unpredictable reunion, I will never be so beautiful again. Not all dreams will come true in time, not all words will come true. And tell you that regrets are always deeply rooted in your heart after parting. Although they say that everything in the world will eventually become empty, I don't mean to miss it, but I have been doing it all the time. I want to miss the flowery yesterday and repeat the same parting today. I will be a stranger for the rest of my life, and I will bow deeply to you at dusk. Please take good care of me, although they say that everything in the world will eventually become empty. One day, all the joys and sorrows will leave me. I still try my best to collect those beautiful tangled memories that are worth living for her once. There is always hope for a prisoner's bleeding wound to heal, but what will never heal in his heart is a bloodless wound. Is it just that Ying Xiao Wo was born thousands of years earlier? What you can't escape from the encirclement is your pain and my sadness. Love is meant to be together, not for? Separation again, if there is a love that can never be seen, said or remembered, just like a fire that can never be lit, staring at the dark sky alone is an immortal memory, an effort that will not make it disappear, a desire to save something, a smile written with tears, or a sadness written with a smile. It doesn't necessarily mean separation and no communication. Forget that your sadness has rubbed into my moonlight and Shan Ye, and every night is cold as water, which will touch my old wounds. If the four seasons can be arranged extremely bleak, if the sun is willing, life can be arranged extremely lonely. If love is willing, I can never appear again. Dear friend, if you like, I have nothing but thinking of you. However, if you like, I will wither my thoughts at once and cut them off. If you like, I'll put each one. Dig a seed, cut off every river, make it barren and dry, and extend to infinity. I will never think of you again in my life, except on some nights when I am wet with tears. If you are willing to give in, as long as you have a sincere poem in my heart in the fragrant summer in my eyes, there is nothing wrong with dying so sadly. I can't sit still on the lotus like a Buddha. I am mortal and mine. Life is everything in this world. I hope to be happy and sad. This is my burden. I want to bear it. I know that one day all the joys and sorrows will leave me. I still try my best to collect those beautiful and tangled love poems that are worth living for her once. So what's different about my experience today? The love that once made me cry like that is like a dream. My love is the summer that just passed, the rainstorm, and the memory of the past. When he came to me, he couldn't find me, so he was full of sadness. After he left, I woke up and wrote 300 poems with tears in my eyes, and the sky gradually faded. Burning finally makes you stop loving me and finally returns to my original loneliness forever. Unexpectedly, the innocence before meeting is nowhere to be found, but in my heart, you have become a burning field forever. If love can be explained, vows can be revised, and if you and I can meet again, then life will be easier. If one day, I can finally forget you, however, this is not a random legend, nor is it a drama to be staged tomorrow. I can't find the manuscript and erase you. It was only yesterday that women crossed the river to collect hibiscus, and the white clouds on the Millennium River will only remain. I wrote a few poems by anonymous. What's the difference between today's experience? The love that once made me cry like that is like a dream in retrospect. The last pen, traveling thousands of miles, says goodbye to you. On the first and last moonlit night, you already knew me. When I was the youngest, you knew how lovingly Guanyin Mountain looked down on me and how delicate and gentle my youth was. You recognized me at once. I will come back when I am full of sad years. Transition and then let the twilight melt into my vicissitudes of life tears, and you also know and pay attention to how those two seagulls flew low over my bow. The victim is like this. Pen, yesterday's joys and sorrows, will never be repeated for me. I only have this gloomy green in the moonlight, so lonely and crowded. All my memories are goodbye, my pen. There is love in your heart that I cherish. Don't blame me for hating me. Please always remember the young me and invite you in the sea. In the wind, I often look back and ignore the lingering embroidery in the world. I can't choose my destiny Fate chose me, so I embroidered my once fiery youth dusk with cold needles day after day. I like to make meta leaves at dusk. At this time, all the colors are quiet, and the darkness has not yet come. There is the last passion in the lush green on the mountain. I also like to make my life at dusk. At this time, all the stories have taken shape. But the ending hasn't come yet. I smiled and looked back again and found my heart painting exhibition, which has been wandering and sad. I know that all the good things will not stay for anyone, so I hang my love and sadness on the wall and sell them. A place I have never seen before is actually all the knowledge in my hometown. There is only one name. In a gloomy city, I can't find my way. Mom and Dad, that name is a thorn in my heart. I don't just remember you, you know, there are many clues in my heart, but some of them are beyond my touch, which is the pain in my heart. So when the moon comes out, I want to imagine how you smile, but I never dare to imagine what it is like in the afternoon on the highway in my hometown outside the Great Wall. The river speed is noisy, and my car is a lone arrow shooting at sand hunting (they say this high pressure is from Inner Mongolia). With the scorching sun blowing along the smell of grass, it blew all over Guanshan Wan Li (can you catch up with me at a speed of 90km). Just to meet me at this corner, I held my breath and called for the place where the sandstorm came. In the speeding car, my hometown is full of tears. The song of homesickness is a flute in Qingyuan, which always rings on a moonlit night, but the face of my hometown is a vague disappointment, leaving my hometown like a wave in the fog. Sorrow is a tree without rings. It will never grow old. Go to the botanical garden in the afternoon of July, and then look at the pond full of lotus leaves. One afternoon in July, the lotus leaves fluttered in the wind, like mom's clothes today. Lotus gently brought the fragrance in her clothes, but mother was still unhappy. Only I know why. Alas, beautiful mother, you can't love this lake because it's not called Xuanwu. The fate of the sea and the moon deeply suffocates me. In the blue homesickness, there is a white daisy in my dream, and the grass on the hillside is leaving me. When the man I love rides a horse, he will see my red skirt flying. Tonight, Europe is foggy. I am lost in a gray alley, and the grass is leaving the Great Wall. Please sing a farewell song for me, and gently call out the great rivers and mountains in my heart with the forgotten old saying and beautiful vibrato. Anyone who says that the songs are too sad. If you don't like it, it's because there is no desire for you in the song. We always have to sing it again and again. Think of the grassland shining with golden light, think of the sandstorm whistling through the desert, think of the bank of the Yellow River, and the hero rode back to the hometown of the Great Wall. Although the city has fought for a period of history, how many customs have it passed and how many joys and sorrows have it experienced? You will always be a ruthless building curled up in the barren hills. Look at human grievances coldly, why can't you write when you sing? You can't write a story, but once you mention it, there will be a fire burning. Wan Li has your body, your face, your clouds, your trees, your wind, the moonlight under the shady mountain in Chilechuan should be like water tonight, and the Yellow River will still flow through you tonight and flow into my sleepless dream. There is a name for the place where the sandstorm came from in American outlaws. Father said, that's your hometown, the grassland beyond the Great Wall, and Wan Li's mother. Dear son, there is only one name. When the wind blows, homesickness rises, and when the wind falls, homesickness has nowhere to stop looking for. Clouds, wandering eagles, my waves are not just for calling. Please let me cross the sky with you and fly to that vivid mountain, a place I have never seen before. All knowledge is actually my hometown. There is only one name. In a gloomy city, I can't find my way. Mom and Dad, that name is a thorn in my heart. Nine wonderful moments, he gave me all. I know I enjoy a deep and broad love. Beautiful moments spread like black brocade to H P at night, and soft words and sweet words wrapped around my ears. During the day, my cold heart is slowly warming up. It is at such a beautiful moment that I long for you to hold me in your arms. The bride loves me, but not just because I am your bride today. Please love me, just because of the sweet wind and sunshine in Europe in May, because I will be your partner. Vicissitudes should be like boundless oceans. Once there are ups and downs, I will revisit the island with sails when my hair is gray. No one will remember everything about you like me. Love me when I was young. You are a flying arrow, I am the wind beside your feathers, you are a wounded eagle, I am the moonlight that soothes you, you are a towering pine, I am a lingering vine, and I hope you will always be my companion. Gentle wife, the river of time-who said that we will grow old and part, but my love, didn't you hear something quietly passing by our bed? It gave me a fright. Your young and strong body sleeps peacefully in the window next to me. You are my lifelong companion. There are few moon stars outside the window. Is it the river of time that my beloved is flowing by our bed at the moment, or is it just my nightmare in the dark? My heart is in fear. He gave me the whole starry sky so that I could go freely. In the past, I knew I was enjoying a deep and broad love, and I could write poems calmly in a happy corner. In the garden where tears shine day by day, he planted me into a rose that I grew wantonly, and my happiness didn't stop there. Under his strong and gentle wings, I know I know very well. I am a rose.