you
Look back at me.
Look back at the clouds.
I think
You looked at me from a distance.
You observe the clouds up close.
"One generation" Gu Cheng
The night gave me black eyes.
I use it to find the light.
Bian Zhilin out of context
You stand on the bridge and watch the scenery.
The landscape observer is watching you upstairs.
The bright moon decorated your window,
You decorated other people's dreams.
Xi Murong's poem "Flowering Tree"
How to let you meet me
In my most beautiful moment
for this reason
I prayed in front of the Buddha for 500 years.
Pray for Buddha to let us have a dusty relationship.
Buddha made me a tree.
Follow the path you may take.
Under?the?sun
Carefully full of flowers.
Every flower carries my previous hopes.
When you get close,
Listen carefully
Trembling leaves
This is the passion I am waiting for.
When you walked under the tree, you didn't notice me.
On the ground behind you
My friend,
Not falling petals
But my withered heart.
homesickness
In childhood
Homesickness is a small stamp.
I'm at this end
Mom is over there.
When I grow up
Homesickness is a narrow ticket.
I'm at this end
The bride is over there.
We'll talk about it later.
Homesickness is a low grave.
I am outside
Mom's inside.
But now
Homesickness is a shallow strait.
I'm at this end
The mainland is over there
Rain Alley
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane,
I hope to see
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
She does.
Clove-like color,
Lilac-like fragrance,
Sad as cloves,
Mourning in the rain,
Sadness and hesitation;
She lingers in this lonely rain lane,
Hold an oil-paper umbrella
Like me,
Like me.
voicelessly
Cold, sadness and melancholy.
She approached quietly,
Get close and throw again.
Breathing eyes
She floated by.
Like a dream,
As sad and confused as a dream.
Floating like a dream
A lilac field,
I passed this girl by;
She left silently, left,
A crumbling fence,
Walk through this rainy path.
In the lamentation of the rain,
Remove her color,
Spread her fragrance,
Disappeared, even hers
Breathing eyes
Lilac is melancholy.
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane,
I hope to float over.
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
How's it going?