A sad 600-word poem

The spring breeze blew a loud whistle, and the earth opened its sleepy eyes and smiled like a flower. Overnight, like a thawed river, all the flowers arrived as scheduled, overwhelming. Small calyx can no longer hide full of worries, but it is in full bloom, holding high large and small cups and lamps, singing and dancing in the smoky wind in March. So, my eyes are full of all kinds of flowers, such as "the shadow of the four compartments is full of anger" and "the flowers are full of low branches". My nose is full of fragrant incense, soaking in the yard where the spring rain is heartless and as light as sorrow, soaking in the country road where the flowers are flying freely and as light as a dream, and soaking in "the flowers bloom and fall for 20 days, and a city is crazy". There are beautiful peonies here, beautiful summer lotus here, autumn chrysanthemums here, winter plums here, and the world of flowers, which is fascinating ... A flower is a world, and a leaf is a dry world. Beautiful flowers are a metaphor for beautiful youth, full of vigor and vitality. In fact, isn't human life just like a flower? Beauty is like her, simplicity is like her. Life blooms like a flower, trembling, and finally, "what is the boast of falling flowers", lost in the dust of the times. Therefore, people often feel that "flowers cry silently, flowers fly over the swing" and "there is no sad song for me, I don't know if the flowers will die". A poem "Burying Flowers", for hundreds of years, how many tearful people and how many sad wines should be buried with it! Such a delicate life, it happened that "the wind and the sword pressed each other", can only turn pale, the fragrance disappears, and it is "smashed into mud and crushed into dust". Is there a fatalistic causal relationship between the decline of beauty and the misfortune of beauty? Come to think of it, Hua Ben is innocent. Have you noticed that some flowers "would rather hold incense and die than fall in the north wind", and the poet's sigh is like misty rain. Up to now, after all, "the flowers are similar year by year", but there is no reason to seek revenge. "People are different year by year" ... I pushed the cloud road and hid the summer soil across the East China Sea. I came back, looking at the hometown where the spring breeze was ten miles and the fireworks and tears floated, and finally realized. It is to cherish every day in life that blooms like a flower. "Life is as gorgeous as summer flowers." When "flowers wither and flowers fly all over the sky", there is indeed an afterlife idiot who asks: How many flowers do you know in your dream? You can pick flowers and make a smiling face.