The first poem of the vicissitudes of time: embracing the glorious years, the autumn wind sent away the suffocating heat.
People in the sea, clusters of colorful hair restless.
With the shyness of sunset glow
Compose a brilliant movement
Wearing a ray of sunshine
Early-maturing green apples are swimming and breathing in the shade.
Romantic years, passionate youth.
A string of footprints, full of autumn sadness.
Love to fly, suck the dream of drizzle.
Open your arms and imitate the way magpies climb branches.
Rub a handful of mist, brew a cup of vicissitudes, and play the piano in the hazy night.
A tear, a tear in the paradise of green apples.
Embrace the bright moonlight in the crystal clear.
Poems of the vicissitudes of life Part II: Silent years, silent years,
Walking through life unconsciously,
Took away our youth,
Took away our passion,
Looking back suddenly,
Leaving only unforgettable memories.
The years passed quietly,
We have also moved from simplicity to maturity.
Spend an unforgettable flower season and rainy season,
We have tried and honed,
There are failures, tears,
Looking back suddenly,
We have reached middle age.
Waving your hand has given birth to a beautiful hair,
The footsteps of the years are still steady.
Poems of the vicissitudes of time Part III: The gibberish of the years turns over and over.
Turn a hundred miles.
Touch cold and warm
What about knowing yourself?
I can't help it.
Inner feeling
Those anxieties
Maybe it belongs to you.
It doesn't belong to you.
Shiqiaoxia
Listen to the gibberish of the years
Suffer from loss and gain
From where?
Where are you going?
probably
Look up to Linxi
Wandering in life.
At that time, I was sentimental.
Provoke acacia
I'm getting nervous again.
Fragmented chapters
Whose memory is left?
In whose dream?
Call softly and never forget.
Who gave silence?
A tangled face
That number
So close
so far
Bypass the floating world, cool thin
Is it Qing Huan?
probably
Meet someone
What kind of love is there?
Or bright
Or sadness.
Qingcheng walked by
From this time on.
through the years
Trance and confusion
long-lived
After all, I can't escape a buried flower.