A poem about bees: bees say
Bees are busy budding.
Thorns are not in my hands.
If only pain were honey.
The concentration of this atmosphere
At the moment when the flowers are brewing.
Talking about old wine.
Just yesterday.
Today passed inadvertently.
That gesture
Not just between you and me.
Flowers will bloom tomorrow.
Poems about bees Part II: Bees
Pure spring rises in your heart.
The sky is littered with broken clouds.
I just saw Xia Guangna.
I was fascinated by many bees in Mud Country.
Xiangyun is simply your wings.
Fly, fly, fly to your heart's content.
The lips are dry, let the powder buds suck.
Look at that shy little man.
Hua cha na na zi yuan na
I'll wait for you with my eyes open
Fog, group dance, wind and waves
Did Broken Color DOG marry you?
Charming, the smell from the windmill.
Fly, fly, fly.
The dawn of the field passes through ponds and fences.
Put on a skirt and become dusty.
Ying Ge, Yanwu, mountains and rivers, Dongdong.
There are green stones.
Haha, play the trumpet that you don't fall behind.
Xiaojintou fell into confusion.
Where to pick berries? Or honey?
Fly, fly, fly hard.
On the way to glory, you sang very skillfully.
It looks like a young man picking tea.
Show the firmness and enthusiasm of love.
Proud and satisfied with life.
Simply harvesting it is like building it in spring.
Every flower in the alley
Where do people smile or appreciate?
The third part of the bee poem: flowers and bees
I haven't dated you.
I have only one shiny face in my life.
I have never waited for you in these years.
I only fragrant myself in my hometown.
Your unexpected arrival is the ingenuity of time and space.
I haven't had time to outline your appearance.
I have no time to feel the dust all the way.
In an instant, you flew away in a hurry.
Can't keep the sunset glow.
Can't keep a season of birds and flowers.
I am still brilliant, you have to brew sweetness.
We have no life or death. Bye.
I won't keep you. You have your home.
I don't want you to stay in my world.
You have stopped at the moment when your eyes met.
A poem about bees: bees.
Brew your own honey
Let good people taste it.
Grow your own thorns
Let the wicked be stung
Free and easy temperament
Love is also clear.
Hate is also clear.
A short life
Life is quiet, too.
Death is easy.