Warm spring breeze
Brought warmth
Take away the biting cold
Ruthless ice and snow
torrid summer
Golden sandy beach
White spray
Colored shells
Cold autumn
The Red Maple Leaf
fail
Brought loneliness and loneliness.
chilly winter
White snowflake
One by one.
Drift down
Four monsoon
The spring breeze is warm.
With lazy warmth
Wake up the sleeping seeds.
Blow every leaf on the green branch.
Let the world have charming green.
The wind in summer is precious
Let the sun release its long-accumulated enthusiasm.
It casually walked through the air.
Let the lake shine.
Let the boat swim in the wind
Autumn wind is mature.
It makes maple trees bright and bright.
Let butterflies with fluttering leaves dance in the wind.
With the withering of life
Weave new dreams
The wind in winter is biting.
It blows snowflakes into ice.
As bright as a jewel in the sun.
The snow spread the angel's white.
Covering the earth breeds the hope of a bumper harvest.
Poetry "Four Seasons Related to You"
Spring Morning
Pushing away the voice of longing for spring, it is misty morning fog outside the window.
The clouds in the east are very low, and the green plants on the shore are dancing in the wind.
Your name is arranged in a music score, which spreads gently in my eyes.
Bluebirds are dancing in the melody. Green songs, scattered with grass and grass.
When you came back from Saibei, there was desert sand on your skirt.
You stand at the bow of the boat, and the flute plays the first "Six Words".
Wind and water, Qian Fan in the chest over ten thousand ships.
With the sound of your flute, my long hair drifted away.
Combed by your eyes into a small order, dancing on the waterfront where you must pass.
Summer noon
A person stands in an empty place, watching butterflies perch on the branches and land on the old willow tree in front of the door.
Folding willows to the heart, the hearty brushwork is frustration and alertness.
The most emotional poems have grown up.
Walk across the ridge covered with pods and imagine your fingers running through my black hair.
Collect mugwort leaves and travel through desolate or noisy villages.
Your shadow always appears before the cold rain.
But the afternoon sun hit my eyes and hurt them.
A narrow tunnel, through vicissitudes of life.
Dancing with you with the devil's virtual face, my body is full of cracks.
Mossy stone steps can't feel the warmth of June.
Cold water sleeves, start to imagine the temperature of your palm.
Stay close to the root of the tree and listen to its voice.
The underground river is full of dark waves, and the depth is beyond my reach.
Follow the track of the song and stop on a cliff.
Settle on an island at the end of the world and abandon your helmet and armor.
Some people are eager to press but can't press, and they start in a hurry, but there is nowhere to stay.
They sneak into the bone marrow and cry in the dark forever.
Because you have always doubted my definition of beauty and my description of butterflies.
Autumn dusk
In the autumn wind, I began to bind books that rustled everywhere.
Staring at the endless depression and gloomy twilight, the reeds on one bank turned white.
When encountering wind and frost, they are the old feathers of soaring migratory birds.
There is no departure date, so I can only be a fallen leaf bridesmaid.
Only in a framed ink painting can the long axis from Jiangnan to Saibei be rolled up.
Leave a thousand pages blank, but write your name all over the title page.
Then wrapped in oil paper, silently stuffed into the drawer of the years.
winter evening
At dusk, when the sun lamp was turned off, the noise stepped out of the threshold and was eclipsed.
The treasure of the snowy plateau, I hold a sickle in my hand.
Harvest from the moment I met you. Poetry is arranged in rows.
Keep years and frost away from youth. Don't need a glimmer of brilliance.
I don't expect your boat to reach my door before it freezes.
Buried by years, disappeared in all eyes.
Just shaking hands and saying goodbye is easy to be ignored by the season.
Creeping in the mud of words day and night, like soil, precipitated in the soil.
But some ideas stay where they are, while others get up.
You are always behind the narrow time and space, opening the stagnation point of your soul.
Interlaced seaweed, familiar smile
The whole concept makes the night close to the ignition point.
The temperature in the distance makes winter snow boil.
The disorder of cross transposition has caused endless panic.
I must always empty my heart to prevent the burning and explosion of imbalance.
Supplement ancient poems:
, "Delighting in Rain on a Spring Night" Tang Du Fu
Good rain knows the season, when spring comes. Sneak into the night with the wind, moisten things silently.
The night is dark and the river is bright. Look at the red and wet place, the flowers in Jinguancheng are heavy.
Song Sushi's Night Scene by the Hui Chong River
Two or three peach blossoms outside the bamboo forest and ducks in the water first noticed the warm spring. The beach is covered with wormwood, asparagus is beginning to sprout, and puffer fish are preparing to swim upstream from the sea back to the river.
The quatrains "South of the Song Monks"
The shade of ancient wood is a short awning, and the stick thistle helps me cross the east of the bridge. The clothes are wet and the apricot blossoms are raining, and the face is not cold.
4, "Chu Xiao Jingci Temple sends Lin Zifang" Song Yang Wanli
It is the scenery of the West Lake in June, which is really different from other seasons.
Lotus leaves will not turn green the next day, and lotus flowers are particularly bright red in the sun.
Sun Yat-sen, Thomson and Li Shangyin
A person lives in seclusion, overlooking the city, spring is gone, summer is clear. The grass was drowned by the rain and finally got the love of God. The rain was sunny.
Climbing on the high shelf, overlooking the distance, the sky is high and the afterglow of the sunset passes through the window lattice. Birds' nests have been dried, and their bodies are light again.
Yang Wanli, a Sleeping Song in Early Summer
Plum sour teeth, banana green sieve.
Spring goes to summer, and the days are long and tired. After a nap, I feel depressed and watch the children play with catkins in the air.
Tanabata Dum
Silver candle, cold screen lamp, small fan, firefly street, cold as water at night.
She lay watching two loving stars meet in the sky.
Mid-autumn Du Mu
The sunset glow is overflowing, and the cold silver people silently turn to the jade plate. It's been a rough night in my life.
Where will the bright moon see next year?
The quatrains-Du Fu
Two orioles sing green willows,
A line of white dew rose to the sky.
The window contains autumn snow in Xiling,
Mambo Wu Dong Wan Li Ship.
Jiang Xue-Liu Zongyuan
There are no birds in the mountains,
A thousand roads without footprints.
A boat, a bamboo cloak,
An old man was fishing in the cold river snow.
Plum blossom-Wang Anshi
There are some plums in the corner.
Ling cold drives alone.
Even from a distance, they can't be mistaken for snow.
Because a fragrance comes with the breeze.
Jiang Xue, the owner of Furong Mountain, stayed in the snow.
Liu Zongyuan
In the sunset, thousands of birds fly away in the distant mountains.
The weather is cold and the house is poor. A thousand roads without footprints.
Chai Men is in danger when he hears dogs barking.
Snowstorm returns at night. An old man was fishing in the cold river snow.