Modern poetry seeking self-creation,

Thoughts in the dead of night

At this moment,

The night is deep and there are many stars.

Where is the crescent moon?

By the pillow,

Can I have a story to accompany me?

Or a wonderful dream?

Outside the window,

Listening to the wind telling the past time,

Counting the years carefully is like a song.

Mind,

Will no longer be an island,

This is a treasure house.

Early in the morning,

With the fragrance of the last drop of morning dew,

You will meet the first ray of sunshine!