Leaving the hustle and bustle of the city,
Get rid of tall buildings and galloping,
Come to the fields with golden waves,
Enjoy the clear water of Xia Feng.
The moon climbed the hillside,
Sprinkle a ray of silver.
Cicada sings in the leaves,
Epiphyllum blooms at this time.
Like a beautiful fairy,
Brought us a quiet summer.
2, bamboo forest calm wind
The wind is everywhere,
It can appear in hidden places,
You can also hide in Baidicheng.
Brush your face gently,
Soak in the quiet wind.
The clear wind echoed in the bamboo forest,
A long sound came from the depths,
The wind blows the sound of bamboo leaves brushing,
Cover the bamboo forest with green tulle.
How quiet!
Here comes Wang Wei, leisurely!
3. Antarctic fire
There's a fire in Antarctica,
He jumped onto the frozen lake,
Disappeared in the Antarctic plateau.
With his enthusiasm and reputation,
Melted the ice and snow,
With his strangeness and mystery,
Created a new world.
But the world is shrouded in cold,
Even the Antarctic fire,
There's nothing I can do.
3. The pleasure of writing
I love writing, not that modern people love the ancients, and clear words and beautiful sentences must be neighbors; I love writing, neither refined nor sincere, nor touching; I love writing, reading thousands of books, and writing like a god; I love writing, I am familiar with 300 Tang poems, and I can sing without memorizing them.
Writing is like climbing a mountain. Although tired and panting, I am very happy. Standing on the top of the mountain, it must be sunny, and looking at the red dress is particularly enchanting. Inspired by Ran Ran, he sighed, "All the other mountains look small under the sky." .
Writing is like watching a play. Sometimes you cry for Dou E's injustice, and sometimes you are angry for Se's ruthlessness. I feel infinite emotion in my heart under the book, and I feel that my heart is bright.
Writing, like appreciating poetry, often fascinates me. Practicing calligraphy with sleeves in my spare time is even more wonderful and unique. It is like a fountain of emotion, trickling and inspiring strange inspiration.
I love writing, I am happy to write, laughing and cursing, all of which have become articles.
I like to write magnificent mountains and rivers, looking at the inside and outside of the Great Wall, but I am boundless; Up and down the river, lost the surging; The mountains are like dancing silver snakes, and the highlands are like advancing wax elephants, all trying to match the sky in height.
I like to write about the love that I never give up and ask what the world is like. This is called a commitment to life and death. Far more than phreak, the old wings are a few times colder and a few times hotter.
I like to write about Jianghu, but I can't understand Guo Jing and Yang Guo. Duan Yu, Qiao Feng, a little old-fashioned; Dong Fangbubai, a great master, only knew boudoir embroidered birds.
I love writing, and I have been attached to writing for a long time. I felt empty and bored for a while without writing anything. For me, nothing can replace writing.
When I am happy, I will write the bits and pieces that make me happy into a diary full of mystery; When I am wronged, I will almost go crazy and make language attacks on things I don't like; When I was hit by an inspired spirit, my pen moved and I wrote down my feelings for a while. Clear water gives birth to hibiscus, which is naturally carved. I wrote my mouth by hand. How could I be detained?