Meet and leave, meet and wait.
When the wind blows, a pool of clear water is wrinkled. A semester has passed like this again?
How to tell the story of the scorching sun in the past and how to mention the misty rain in the past?
How to listen to the laughter that still lingers in my ears?
What should be there is always there, and what flows away is destined to be taken back.
Someone else is leaving. Will anyone come again?
When will this colored lead painting be completed in the future?
Every stroke is so understated,
The trace is deep and will not fade with the years.
Is youth too crowded and years too depressing?
Has the courage of the past been thrown into the coffin and buried deep in my heart?
Whether it is ten thousand minutes or not, we will never be moved by it again.
Are we not even moved by it anymore?
What do we want?
Sincerity, care and companionship.
Will you allow me to settle down,
No longer bothered by what is in front of you.
No longer lament the right and wrong around you.
If life is like the first time,
We may all be the same.
Maybe my left hand is a firefly that never forgets anything, and my right hand is a long meditation for ten years.
"Maybe youth is just a period of inexplicable sadness."
If you meet an old man by chance,
Please tell him for me:
"Although this youth is bitter, it is still full of happiness!"
Maybe you can smile again when you turn around.
Maybe when you look back, you can pick up another charming fireworks.
Maybe time can only go forward, and the years are gone forever.
probably ...
Pause, stop, smile:
Maybe we don't have to be too sad,
One more step,
Maybe there will be a clear rainbow ahead,
You will see sunshine and hope.
-This is a brand-new sky and a colorful world!
"Even if there are too many uncertainties in youth, we don't have to be devastated, because there are more important things worthy of our concern!"
It's over.
Appreciation of modern poetry with the theme of memory II. I know you flew in yesterday.
Feathers and sighs,
I haven't stopped in the corner yet.
It's like you erased the dividing line between our tables forever.
You secretly gave me the diary,
Right next to him.
Just like Gobi discovered Populus euphratica forest,
Camel's footsteps and
There is a clear sand scene at the bottom of the lake.
Some Hu Yangshu,
A lake,
A vague line of footsteps.
Form a painting and put it in the Gobi.
Like petals in a book,
Keep the filar silk red and transparent,
Much like butterflies and their wings.
I never thought there would be a crowd in the street.
Meet suddenly,
Just as moonlight doesn't want to be disturbed by the breeze,
The lake refused to ripple
Clear and yearning for peace.
If you come with the peace of your wife and mother.
Dare I look back at you with demure and shy eyes?
I have always been like a cicada,
Carefully rummaged through the pages,
Dare not get rid of it,
Afraid of solidifying the past
The color has faded.
Just like worrying that singing will make summer hotter,
Crickets will sing lonelier autumn nights.
Her wings are transparent,
Like a butterfly flying over the mountains,
The lake where camels pass,
Hu Yangshu's torso,
And cactus leaves.
That bird! Yes, I was whispering,
Oh, she knows about the petals,
And the words on the note.
She always rubs and draws a line between us,
She always leaves my notes at her feet,
Pick it up secretly,
She wrote all this in her diary.
Snow Mountain is still looking at me in the distance,
I heard her voice in the Gobi under my feet.
This river is full of youth like snow,
Do you remember?
With Snow Lotus's ignorant memory?
He is not like snow now.
He often wants to go back to the snow-capped mountains.