Xi Murong
The song of my hometown is a flute in Qingyuan.
It always rings with the moon at night.
The face of my hometown is a vague disappointment.
Like waves in the fog
After parting
Homesickness is a tree without rings.
Never grow old.
homesickness
Yu Guangzhong
In childhood
Homesickness is a small stamp.
I'm at this end
Mom is over there.
When I grow up
Homesickness is a narrow ticket.
I'm at this end
The bride is over there.
We'll talk about it later.
Homesickness is a low grave.
I am outside
Mom's inside.
But now
Homesickness is a shallow strait.
I'm at this end
The mainland is over there
Flowering tree
Xi Murong
How to let you meet me
In my best moment, for this.
I prayed in front of the Buddha for 500 years.
Begging him to let us have a dusty relationship.
Then the Buddha turned me into a tree.
Follow the path you may take.
In the blooming flowers, I wait in the sun.
Every flower carries my previous hopes.
Please listen carefully when you come near.
The trembling leaves are my passion for waiting,
When you walked under the tree, you didn't notice me.
On the ground behind you
Friend, that's not a petal.
It is my withered heart
Supplement:
Error Zheng Chouyu
I walked through Jiangnan.
The appearance in the season is like the opening and falling of lotus flowers.
If the east wind does not come, catkins will not fly in March.
Your heart is like a little lonely city.
Like a bluestone street facing the night.
Without a sound, the spring curtain in March can't be lifted.
Your heart is a small closed window.
The sound of the horseshoe I answered was the sound of cymbals.
I am not a returnee, I am a passer-by.