1 This poem about years is not because I had you in a good time, but because I had you and I had a good life. When I miss you, look up and smile at my best friend!
That year, that day, I followed my brother with trepidation and heard him say, don't look, you have been assigned to 1 1 class. Nani? The names on that placement form are dense, but they all seem so strange. My junior high school career, my first life, with the courage flashing in the sun on the victory uniform, with the number 1 1, kicked off.
In a flash, how many joys and sorrows have you experienced over the years?
Young people who once aspired to the four directions envied the face of Nanfei.
One by one, the figures heading for the future are drifting away in a hurry.
Where is the future ordinary? Who gives me the answer?
The people who accompanied me at that time, where are you now?
What about the people you once loved?
Life is like a ruthless meat cleaver.
Changed our appearance.
Will it wither before it blooms?
I had a dream.
Youth is like a running river.
Never come back, no time to say goodbye.
I'm just numb. I don't have the blood of that year.
Look at the flowers falling all over the sky
Withered at the most beautiful moment
Who will remember this world? It has been here before.
Did your original wish come true?
Do we have to pay homage now?
Let the years dry up, and the ideal will never find me again.
Look up at the stars.
The one who was with me at that time
Do you remember the story here?
If there is tomorrow, bless you, dear.
That year, that day, I heard you shouting hello across the street, and I saw you waving to me in the shade of a locust tree in the central square. I don't remember whether I ran to you or you crossed the street to meet me. I only remember you saying: we seem to be on the road, and we walked all the way. I have been alone for several days, and your greetings and waving have made me not lonely for three years. Dear Chinese food, do you remember?
That year, that day, the senior said to me, you meet, this is Zhang Jing, nicknamed Wazhazi. You just looked at me shyly and said, well, I forgot. Anyway, the three of us go together, go home together, and sometimes meet at school together. Later, in the second semester of the second grade, the old class asked you to sit at the same table with Xiaoxiao, followed by Sister Xiang and me, and so on until the third grade graduation. I promise, I will be happy with you every day, because you will learn from Liu Huan, imitate idiots and let us bully you. How can you be so simple and honest, dear old tile, do you remember?
That year, that day, I first heard Lao Zhang say your name, but it was because someone was absent from school for a few days and asked your parents to look for it. I also thought about it a little. Which yin is yin? Well, it should be silver. A few days later, I chattered with my old class, which meant changing seats. I still remember that scene: the old class looked around a few times and said, "You changed seats with that man." Coincidentally, I sat next to you, and then I went to Grade Two, Grade Three and Grade One. Now, we have always been deskmates and closest girlfriends. Have you ever heard of the saying: it's fate to meet thousands of miles away, but there's no chance to meet each other. This is fate! Dear deskmate, do you remember?
On the second day after the senior high school entrance examination, we went to Xinglong Mountain, climbed the western hills together, roared proudly at the top of the mountain, and were too tired to breathe because of the steep ladder. We had a picnic in the dense shade of the back hill and quietly enjoyed our leisure and reluctance after graduation. ......
My little, my pineapple, my section chief, my sister-in-law and my Pippi, where are you now? I thought that three years could be a long time, but now I know that three years is very short. With a flick of a finger, a classroom was blank, and we were destined to go to the ends of the earth. The same blue sky, the same starry sky, the same quiet night, but I can never see the familiar look again. But after all, we have not lost time and youth. Therefore, I hope that you who grew up together and played together can also enjoy that quiet time.
Youth is the behavior of people who have committed crimes twice, and there is something called memory.
Poem 2 on Time: Reading Excerpt from Bai Luomei's Time is Quiet and Life is Stable.
A long cloud, a stream in January, a scene for a year.
There is a moment in life, a bodhi tree and a haze.
Many people walk around to watch the flower show, and the ferry goes to enjoy a lake of spring water, from one city to another town. Along the way, some people put idle clouds in their bags, some people carry stories on their shoulders, and they are all looking for their inner hometown, but they are in a hurry, forgetting where they came from and not knowing how to return. Bai Luomei, a talented woman who lives in seclusion, writes the world of mortals with Zen, lives with Buddhism and changes her mind into fireworks. Have time to cut bodhi with her, listen to her quietly tell the fate of this relationship, overlook the fireworks world, live a quiet life, and look forward to the stability of this world. ...
Such as water, warm a pot of Bai Yueguang, and caress a song "Cloud Water Zen Heart" in the small courtyard where the fallen flowers are buried deeply. At this time, the dust flying in the daytime has dispersed, the smoke cloud has converged, and the world has forgotten the machine. The world of mortals is over, and birds return to the mountains. Silent water, a wild boat crossing, drifting in the clear waves, can't find the back of the past.
Empty mountains and birds talk, people live in white clouds.
The gurgling spring is in my heart, and there are fish in the pond.
The wind blows the mountains, the moon shines and shadows move,
The world of mortals gathers and scatters like a dream, and is deeply sad.
Looking at the gloomy clouds and cherishing the bright moon,
Caress a song, send it remotely, and it is difficult to complain about homesickness.
My heart is like a cloud of smoke, dancing with long sleeves.
People are thousands of miles away, and the soul and dreams are often dependent.
Beauty is empty and self-confessed.
Conan couldn't wake up from his dream, and the ancient mountain forest was empty.
Listen, Qingquan Ding Dong Ding Dong seems unintentional,
Reflects the silence of my long night.
All beings are in the past.
Enjoy reading and taking notes.
Three old songs I used to know, one after another.
Now the rhythm, strong life, hard work.
A long-lost day, a vicissitudes novel.
The passage of time
Some people don't have to bury the past for themselves after all.
Uncooled tea, occasionally stained with dust.
Like the end of youth, the old days.
Gently twist a piece of the past.
She left, he left, and they all left.
You are not alone, you still have yourself.
the original
No matter how prosperous it used to be.
finally
Will go to the irrelevant misty rain.
Like this season's yellow flower rain, free and easy.
But I don't know the next second
In a blink of an eye, the years went away, and the flowers in the dream finally got cold.
A pool of spring water, endless fleeting time, how can we recall the past?
A crescent moon locks the building, and a poem is full of rhyme.
After all, prosperity is endless desolation.
The years are in ruins. What are the disadvantages of singing?
Looking at other people's stories, I feel all kinds of fleeting time.
The world of mortals passed by and two lines of clear tears fell.
The wind of the years
Can't blow away the good past
Those blue bright eyes
Whose eyes are flooded again?
It's a life without regrets.
Or the years are in ruins.
Poem 4 about years In this summer night when fireflies are shining, let your own hands cut off this sadness, and you are quietly bound by a concern.
-inscription
Wave gently and break off the parting.
And you, with a smile, have a leisurely hair.
That cup is light, that plate is too heavy and boring!
Wine makes you sad, but your words make you feel ashamed.
Husband's life, popularization.
Why? Appreciate each other and be affectionate.
Although I have been separated several times, I still have no regrets and deep feelings.
//
When I first came back, it was chilly in spring, foggy and rainy.
Inadvertently, what is left is mutual nostalgia, and life seems doomed.
The twists and turns of life seem to test each other's loyalty.
Parting, I am so firm.
It's heartbreaking to see the sadness of your pear flower with rain and the firmness of waving your sleeves.
The same misty rain, set sail with your attachment.
//
The years of tossing and turning have made acacia pile up into mountains.
Look at my faltering footsteps, look at my tired face, and your tears turn into smiles.
Welcome a passerby who wants to leave again?
I'm ragged and haggard, and I'm in tears when I face your calmness.
When spring calls for the footsteps of wanderers again, it really appears in front of you again.
Dream? No, really, I appeared in front of you, in your gentle arms.
I said, no longer travel, I said, no longer leave, let the east wind smooth all the sadness.
However, in the face of today's departure, I feel sorry for breaking my word again!
//
Fireflies are everywhere and frogs are buzzing.
Gardenia blossoms, close courtyard.
Your hand is slightly twisted and the melody is deep.
Only heard the frog drum stop, fireflies focus;
I only heard the breeze stop and covered my face with my eyebrows.
The fragrant tea is shallow, and the paper umbrella in the rain lane is gone;
Iron Ma Jinge, Tianya Zhanjian.
//
Tomorrow, I will go directly to Yun Fan.
Misty rain is blurred in my heart.
Pick up the flute, deafening range, long whistle.
Yu Di, deep and distant, with deep feelings.
With you, there is no need to get drunk. Yang Liuan, I don't know where I woke up from the faint breeze.
I am deeply concerned about your company and dancing lightly, full of lofty sentiments.
Just wave your hand gently and cut this heavy parting.
Let fireflies fly and frogs drum up.
//
Indulge in your arms and have no worries tonight!
The eyebrow and the moon are curved, and Qin Lou hangs obliquely.
Tomorrow is the future!
Poetry about years: fifty or thirty years.
Falling gently like planetesimals
Memories in the gap of the canyon
Rise like smoke, flicker
That old black bike.
In my father's generous and warm palm.
Under the loving care of my mother
Ding-ding, Rinrin, winding.
Take away the girl's tender years
therefore
Those gorgeous cockscomb flowers
Crushed by the wheel of time
Beautiful poems and paintings floated from books and bamboo slips.
I'm still looking under the neon lights.
I'm still daydreaming among lilacs.
In the drizzling years
The days precipitate into yellow scrolls.
I miss it in every birthday that comes quietly.
Pick up the moonlight scattered by the window.
Open that bottle of old wine.
With or without your blessing.
At the time of sinking
There are always poems that I sing softly.
Poetry about the years. The river of years has passed, and everything is light and cloudy.
The wheel of history crushes the ancient and modern full moon.
Standing on the ancient city wall, touching the trauma of time.
The box of memory has been dusty for 90 years.
When I give up my robe and stop wandering
Can only sigh gently, flowing like water.
Overlooking the changes of life
Once upon a time, the suffering people were displaced.
There is fear in their eyes.
In that cruel war smoke
How many innocent lives have left us in a flash?
How many great heroes died to save the world?
Too much is hidden in the alternation of day and night.
Little-known glorious deeds
Trade death for peace in the afterlife.
This painful price
The gap between life and death
90 years later.
I stood alone on the shore and looked out.
The course of life flows backwards like a river.
Wandering, winding, wandering ...