A wisp of fragrant sleeping rose on the pillow.
Fall into my dream land
So my dream.
A wave of acacia
All dreams fly like tidbits.
Through the stars, through time and space.
You walk in a hurry in your dream.
Laugh like an eternal rainbow
I am a crying butterfly.
Dance with wings as thin as cicadas.
Haunt you.
Want to whisper
I was your bride in a previous life.
For your present life.
I threw away 3,000 faulty threads.
My gentle and lovely eyes
Fly out of a soft feeling
Want to haunt you
Let you read
Bury the Millennium heart by mistake.
This life is still the world of mortals that I have never seen through.
There will be some love, some hate and some reluctance.
Shallow grounding but deep attachment
I perched on your shoulders.
Flap one's wings feebly
The tangled love affair poured into a thousand words.
I want to touch you with tears.
What about you?
But gently abandon me like shaking off petals.
I shed tears like rain
I can't catch up with you anymore.
Butterfly girl
( 1)
You flew over thorns.
A wisp of soul fragrance wafts in the clear leaves.
Maybe nobody wiped their eyes.
Why not teach provocative wings to break?
Where are you flying to?
How did vilen become so spacious?
Wind and rain have become a meal companion all the way.
Your thin and lonely wings are working hard.
How many obstacles have you crossed?
I don't know when.
You dance into the wasteland of Butterfly Valley.
Piansha high school
How many pairs of wings have gathered you?
From then on, she became a butterfly girl.
In a limited time
Life is destined to be impossible to disguise.
The fields and mountains have gradually changed.
Decorate the ravines and colors of your life.
I heard about it in the story.
All butterflies will sink into the swamp.
Only the love and persuasion of flowers and plants
Will continue some youth.
Bring a glass-like resurrection
(2)
But I was destined to join.
Become a quiet butterfly.
Cover up your fatigue and shame with you
Separate the dearest sunshine with a veil.
therefore
Maple leaves all over the mountains have become my sunshade.
When the leaves start whispering and swaying
The wind will converge gently.
All the stories of trudging on the edge of life
But I was destined to join.
Also become a weak butterfly.
Take cotton to keep out the cold.
Use a few piles of warm wood to drive away the most unique snowfields.
therefore
There are trees everywhere, which has become my cold village.
When the jungle begins to creak
Snow was detected quietly.
All the stories that melt on the edge of life
But I don't want to be resurrected like glass.
Release a green leaf
Fresh blood for the soul.
Regeneration will replace impurities in waste soil.
Life has been purified since then.
It is the poetic belief that makes me reluctant to give up.
The world I love deeply is complicated.
(3)
Beautiful butterfly girl
Please throw away the burden in your heart.
A valley planted with butterfly grass
Put an elegant coat on the green mountains and green waters.
Let the whole valley smell fragrant.
Spend the rest of your life with it.
Tonight, it snows again.
Have you ever counted the days that have passed?
A cold and snowy seat is like listening to a law.
Freeze your flapping wings
There are no more curtains in the dark
But I feel like you're stretching the wrinkles.
The scenery outside the glass window
Butterflies on the other side are thinking.
Slightly hidden in the sun.
It is even more necessary to avoid the disaster of rain and rain.
Life is like a rose in bud.
The future is bright and the future is weak.
You flew over
Streams, plains, valleys, rivers
In a cherished way.
exist
Extremely light.
A ditch to show life
I'd like to keep it.
Spend time with you.
Until I'm free from collapse
I think I will understand.
The smell of your dance is everywhere.
A beam of light once came from me.
I am just a butterfly.
2. A foreign poem about butterflies, "The Crying Butterfly", with a wisp of fragrant and sleepy roses, falls to my dream hometown, so my dream hometown is full of the wave of acacia, and all the dream tidbits fly across the sky through time and space. You walk in a hurry and smile like an eternal rainbow. I am a crying butterfly, waving its wings as thin as cicada's wings and wanting to whisper to you. I am the bride of your past life, for your present life. I left behind my lovely bright eyes 3,000 worrying threads, and a soft love thread wanted to entangle you and let you know that I buried something wrongly for thousands of years. This life is still a world of mortals that I have never seen through. Finally, I have some love, some hate and some shallow roots, but I am deeply attached to you. I perched on your shoulder, flapping my wings feebly, and my tangled feelings surged with tears. I wanted to touch you, but you gently abandoned me like shaking off petals and then brushed away my tears. I can't keep up with you. Butterfly Girl (1) You flew over a wisp of soul fragrance among thorns and floated in the clear leaves. Maybe no one has wiped your eyes. How can you not teach others how to break your wings? Where are you flying to? How did vilen become so wide and stormy? How many barriers have you tried to cross with your thin and lonely wings? I don't know when you danced into this butterfly valley wasteland and fluttered in the sand, and several pairs of wings connected you tightly. Becoming a butterfly girl in a limited time, life is doomed to be impossible to disguise. Fields and mountains gradually decorate the valleys and colors of your life. It is said that all butterflies in the story will sink into the swamp, and only the love and persuasion of flowers and plants will continue some youth and bring glass-like resurrection. (2) But I am destined to join in, become a quiet butterfly, cover up my tiredness and shame with you, and separate the dearest sunshine with a veil, so the maple leaves all over the mountains become my cover. When the leaves began to whisper and sway, the parasol gently gathered all the stories of trekking on the edge of life, but I was destined to join in, become a weak butterfly, shelter the cold with you, and drive away the most unique snowfield with a few warm trees, so the trees everywhere became my closed cold village. When the jungle began to creak, the snow quietly detected all the stories of melting on the edge of life, but I didn't want to resurrect, releasing a green leaf like glass instead of my heart. The rebirth of fresh blood will replace the impurities in the waste soil. This is a poetic belief, and life has been purified since then. I can't bear to abandon my complicated and beloved world. (3) Beautiful butterfly girl, please give up your inner load and plant a butterfly grass valley. Put on a graceful coat for Qingshan, and let the fragrant soul of the valley spend the rest of the night with it. Have you ever counted the days when the snow turned over again? It's like ordering your wings to freeze. In the dark, you don't move the curtains, but you feel that you are stretching the scenery outside the wrinkled glass window. The butterfly on the other side is thinking of hiding in the sun slightly to avoid the disaster of wind and rain. Life is like a rose in bud. The future is bright and the future is weak. You fly over streams, plains and valleys. Rivers exist in a way that must be cherished, and show the ditches of life in a light and incomparable way. I am willing to spend my time with you until I get out of the collapse. I think I will understand that the fragrance of your dancing comes from me. I am just a butterfly.
3. Ask for a foreign poem about butterflies. Hello, I'm glad to answer your question:
I have been paying attention to your question for many days, and I have done a lot of search and inquiry, but you have given me too little information to find a clear answer. This is the final result.
According to your description, there are two short stories that match this and this. One is Taiwan Province poet Love, whose current nationality is Canadian, which fits the description of foreign poets. The other is the poet Gomez, whose name is a bit like a foreigner's name. Attached are two works:
Lepapillon
Author: Gomai
Dead butterfly, worn on the lover's chest.
This is a dead butterfly.
A black rose blooms in a world of drunken dreams.
Dead butterfly, nothing comes from love.
From life, from all kinds of helplessness
A dead butterfly is like an image leopard under my tower in spring.
The violence in her youth slowly unfolded in her lover's heart.
Dead butterfly, unknown life, how to know death.
Fallen leaves fall all over Chang 'an.
A ray of sunshine slanted into the sad entrails.
……………………………………………………
butterfly
Author: love
The blood on the Pharisee's hammer is still wet.
1958, you made the second sacrifice.
Lord! Pull out your cross, I have repented.
I cried and put one foot in the spring.
popular
I thought I had accomplished a beautiful conquest.
But Rodin couldn't stand it.
A meditator is colder than a shadow?
I never dare to give grace wings again.
Afraid of being caught and then crucified.
4. Foreign Poetry "Butterfly" Michael Brock's first butterfly in spring orange and purple flew over my road, and a flying flower changed the color of my day. Butterfly Michael Brock/works, the first butterfly in Zhang Wenwu/spring, dressed in orange and purple, flew over a flying flower on the road, changing the color of life. Well, that changed the color of my day. Butterfly Michael Brock/Zhang Wenwu/The first butterfly in spring, wearing orange and purple, flew over a flying flower on the road and changed the color of life.
Foreign poets brought the first butterfly poem in spring to help the butterfly Michael Brock. The first butterfly in spring is orange and purple, and a flying flower is changing. My Color of the Day Butterfly Michael Brock/Works, Zhang Wenwu/The first butterfly in spring, wearing orange and purple, flies over a flying flower on the road, changing the color of life. Butterfly Michael Brock's first butterfly in spring flies over my road with orange and purple. Well, the butterfly that changed the color of my day Michael Brock/Left,/The first butterfly in spring, wearing orange and purple, flew over a flying flower on the road and changed the color of life. Well, that changed the color of my day. Butterfly Michael Brock/Zhang Wenwu/The first butterfly in spring, wearing orange and purple, flew over a flying flower on the road and changed the color of life.
6. English Poems of Butterflies Here are some famous English poems about butterflies: 1. The Butterfly Emily Dickinson's Butterfly received little sympathy through the praise in ENT. Humor-because he travels freely and wears decent clothes-prudent people must think that he is dissolute-he has the simple trademark of moderate industry-which is more suitable to prove immortality. Some of these butterflies were seen by Emily Dickinson on the grassland of pampas in Brazil-just not late-sweet-and then-the license was closed-some of these spices-express delivery and passes-were picked by you-as stars-you know last night-foreigners-this morning 3. Blue Butterfly Day by Robert Frost This is the blue butterfly day in spring. As these snowflakes fly in the first snow, the colors on their wings are brighter than flowers, unless they hurry. But these flowers are flying around, almost all singing: now, they are closed in the wind because they have driven away their desire, where the wheels have just cut the mud in April. Butterfly David Herbert Lawrence Butterfly, the wind blows to the sea, stronger than the garden wall! Butterfly, why do you stop on my shoes, sip the dirt on my shoes, raise your textured wings and raise them? Great white butterfly! It's already October, and the wind blows from the mountain to the sea. It must have snowed there, and the wind has been polished by snow. Here is the garden, with red geraniums, very warm, very warm, but the wind blows to the sea, white butterflies, satisfied with my shoes! Will you go? Will you leave my warm home? You will climb your big soft wings, black spots, like an invisible rainbow, an arch, until the wind slides you from the vault and flutters you out to sea at a strange level, white spots! .
7. Poems about butterflies. I'll find you some poems, and the words won't be posted:
butterfly
Don
Huayang is hot in the spring, and the tortoise shell screen is intoxicating.
The master butterfly flies west, and the white riding child returns today.
butterfly
Tang Qiji
Where the back is red, the smell is heavy. Fly separately. See you in teams.
Distant harm will eventually stop birds and scramble to avoid bees. Peach attracts back, and blue attracts each other.
Mao Cui's heart is cold and fragrant powder is thick. You can find shadows through trees, but you can't find flowers.
The evening is still urgent, so spring dance should not be careless. Xifeng old pool pavilion, but also to pick hibiscus.
Pimp a butterfly
Tang Wen Ting Yun
The autumn wind is sad, and the traveler has not returned.
The grass beyond the Great Wall decays first, and the geese in the south of the Yangtze River come late.
Lotus has a tender face and new eyebrows.
It's sad and heartbreaking to shake it down. Who knows?
two butterflies
Tang xuqiu
The ethereal caterpillar is slightly shelled and unbearable.
A beautiful branch to teach, a few wisps of spring breeze to fly.
Every worry in the mouths of chickens and birds, as well as the fragrance of pity, is wrapped around the clothes that continue the front edge.
Ruthless can't solve the dream, don't believe the right and wrong of Zhuang Zhou.
Brush green, wear red, and spend a lifetime in spring.
I hate it when the goddess comes to rain. I like to pick incense with stones.
The wind should only accumulate pollen, and the night is cold and long
The cicada's song is pedantic, which can explain the noisy sunset in Sanqiu.
Three butterflies
Tang xuqiu
Moths in cocoons are not difficult, but flowers must pass by.
The sky and the wind gently send each other, but laugh at spider weaving.
Constant constant double brush painting column, beauty stole a glance frequently.
Don't bully your wings to fly short and close, it's hard to try to jump between flowers.
There is no vivid reason. There are many wild paths in the wild garden.
Who doesn't know that silk and bamboo teach dance, and it depends on Yinger to sing?
Cold bee picking chrysanthemums
Tang gengkun
Swimming in the clear sky, looking for fragrance among chrysanthemums. Bring the sound to the core and shadow it in the incense.
Living in the fog, rising and falling with the wind. Finally, I am ashamed of being a butterfly and don't communicate with my dreams.
Inlaid harp
Don
I want to know why my Jinse has fifty strings, and each string has a youthful interval.
Zhuangzi daydreaming, a saint, was bewitched by butterflies, and cuckoo crowed in the imperial spring.
Mermaids shed pearl-like tears on the moon-green sea, and the blue fields breathed their jade to the sun.
It's worth remembering that it had come and gone before I knew it.
Tijinhua
Tang rongyu
It takes two years to buy hibiscus plants with your own money.
Bright red is invisible to beautiful women, but butterflies will come early.
spring
Tangweizhuang
Suddenly I feel that the scenery in the east is getting late, and the wild Meishan apricot is dark and fragrant.
On the falling star tower, the residual horn blows, and the residual sunset hangs the crescent camp.
The dream of traveling is scattered with butterflies, and the cuckoo flies away from the soul.
The world of mortals broke off the guest in Chang 'an, and the prince of Cao Fang did not return at dusk.
See the rain on the boat
Don Dai Shulun
At the beginning of the rain tonight, Du Ruoqing is in Jiangnan. How reckless is it to become famous? Brothers always wither.
Dreams are far from worrying about butterflies, and feelings are deep shame. I care about lonely people all day, and my life experience is still Liu Ping.
Jianghang
Don Yu Xuan Ji
The great river embraces Wuchang oblique, and there are thousands of households in Parrot Island.
It is not enough to draw a picture of Ge Chunmian, but also to dream of finding flowers for butterflies.
Fireworks have entered the cormorant port, and the painting is still along Nautilus Island.
I don't even feel drunk. I'm surprised at Hanshui.
There is a real mother's grave.
Tangzhanghu
The Buddha buried Luo Yi, and the lonely soul returned here. Dancing is a butterfly dream, and singing thanks to the flying shrimp.
The green hair is facing the clouds, and the green moth is slightly jathyapple. A sad flower falls, and there is no hatred in spring.
peony
Tang peishuo
A few flowers are beautiful, and peaches and plums are peaceful.
I have never seen poverty, but I don't want to make it out of nothing.
This thing is priceless, and it has a unique name in spring.
Swimming bees and butterflies are affectionate.
Begonia
Tangzhenggu
Spring breeze is intended to be even in color and can be sold with poems and songs.
It's best to have a fresh rain when the wind is sunny, and it's about to open.
Mochow was lazy at the window, and Liang Guangdan was late in writing.
I'm drunk and can't get enough of it. I admire his butterfly branches.
Zhuhe Liu Yun
Don
Bai, go home by car.
Hawthorn trees are fragrant in the river, and butterflies fly on the shore.
The glass is full of dew and empty.
Zhu Lou is connected with water, and the sand warms a pair of fish.
Send dou bing Cao
Tangli section
Pears bloom all over the garden, and girls wear robes. When you hear your lover complaining, you should hurry home.
The Imperial Bridge is warm at night, and there are few early warblers in Guandu. No wedding, watch butterflies fly.
8. English Poems of Butterflies Here are some famous English poems about butterflies: 1. The Butterfly Emily Dickinson's Butterfly received little sympathy through the praise in ENT. Humor-because he travels freely and wears decent clothes-prudent people must think that he is dissolute-he has the simple trademark of moderate industry-which is more suitable to prove immortality. Some of these butterflies were seen by Emily Dickinson on the grassland of pampas in Brazil-just not late-sweet-and then-the license was closed-some of these spices-express delivery and passes-were picked by you-as stars-you know last night-foreigners-this morning 3. Blue Butterfly Day by Robert Frost This is the blue butterfly day in spring. As these snowflakes fly in the first snow, the colors on their wings are brighter than flowers, unless they hurry. But these flowers are flying around, almost all singing: now, they are closed in the wind because they have driven away their desire, where the wheels have just cut the mud in April. Butterfly David Herbert Lawrence Butterfly, the wind blows to the sea, stronger than the garden wall! Butterfly, why do you stop on my shoes, sip the dirt on my shoes, raise your textured wings and raise them? Great white butterfly! It's already October, and the wind blows from the mountain to the sea. It must have snowed there, and the wind has been polished by snow. Here is the garden, with red geraniums, very warm, very warm, but the wind blows to the sea, white butterflies, satisfied with my shoes! Will you go? Will you leave my warm home? You will climb your big soft wings, black spots, like an invisible rainbow, an arch, until the wind slides you from the vault and flutters you out to sea at a strange level, white spots! .