I want a poem.

[My Begonia]

Never knew,

Do you remember the leisurely begonia?

Am I a flower watcher or a flower grower?

In other words, I am the tasteless begonia.

Or flowers that never existed. ...

Turn your fingers when you hear the piano.

Tremble and cry

Begonia is tasteless.

"I know it has faded."

The flower watcher is still here.

Are you dreaming there?

Write it down for me.

My phoenix begonia

I have prayed for Haitang countless times.

Or wave goodbye to meet?

We will open together next fall, so

What about the flower watcher in those days? ……

The sky under the begonia tree is pink.

Petals are laughing.

The flower watcher is stepping on a garden advertisement.

Appreciate the moaning of broken bones and tendons.

leave

I

It's already like this

Sow deeply in the garden of that year.

Immortal power

Follow in the footsteps of residual red

Go to the horizon

Look at it.

Look at her.

Beautiful beyond compare!

[He's gone]

This is the only flower left.

Golden rose

Like the sun thousands of years ago, it radiates crimson.

Death is shrouded in darkness.

How dazzling

Every glance of the eyes.

Is she jealous?

The breeze blew the fragrance of the skirt.

The confusion of women's waste in Qin Lou.

-Rose

Looking back 20 years ago.

Still staring at this moment in the late Tang Dynasty

Depressed and stagnant thoughts

[failure]

I knew the result from the beginning, but I did it without hesitation. I gave up when I was close to success.

Peach blossoms fall.

Sing the songs of Daiyu.

I picked up the broken residual load

lose

Look up at the golden sky

Yelling at the sun crazily

I want to hold its hand.

Embrace its fiery chest

Melting of light

Hold on to it

Lotus petals remain the same.

A faint smile

cry

clear

I don't have any more.

Wandering alone on Naihe Bridge

It is my eternal phoenix.

My immortal phoenix

[Spring]

Early spring hangs over my face.

Leave no trace/trace

Dream period

I recalled my imagination in the dead of winter.

It's getting late,

She came so gently.

Leave gently

Why don't I wave my sleeves

Without looking.

Why,

No matter what my pre-Buddha expectations are,

Why,

Regardless of the sadness under my begonia flower.

Your hands are exquisite.

Grab a little light under the candle.

Although I don't hesitate

Life is just the smell of darkness.

Maybe,

This is the so-called chill

Winter has been catching up with spring.

Spring has been slipping away.

I have lost the breath of spring,

Everyone knows