Poetry 1
Farewell, starry night, first frost. I have suffered from the pain that holy water cannot be washed. You stepped on my back. Welcome, Shu Dong, you are alive again! At this last moment, I opened my eyes, put my hands around the feet of the sun, watched the leaves tremble and dance, and listened to the sound of the city until I shed tears of joy!
Poetry 2
It is also the moonlight that is on tonight, because we are all looking up-you see, a full charm rises from the dark clouds-and it is particularly bright and round. It spreads out on the road, it floats on the water, and it dips in the bottom like sad weeds;
It lingers on the eaves of the ancient city, thousands of city bricks breathe in its glory, it caresses the ruins of the scattered tombs outside the city, it wants to catch a glimpse of old and new ghosts in the continuous sound of birds, and it also stands beside us, its eyes shining and chewing the biting shade;
Silver lingering poetry is like star phosphorus on the water, dancing in the bare air. Listen to the songs of the four fields-eternal and humble harmony, sadness mixed with joy, hatred and love, darkness mixed with heat, in this quiet autumn night and the vastness of autumn fields, the greatness of "melting" unfolded the baby's smile in all tiny depths!
Poetry 3
Autumn moon! Who can afford to scratch and crawl romantically with silver fingertips? I don't believe it, but look at the light waves of the sea, but I can't help crying with the touch of its jade fingers! That's it: boring clouds, the beauty of the autumn moon, cold eyes and cold clothes to attend this happy wedding and funeral.
Poetry 4
The shepherd's bell in the distance shook off the light leaves. Qiu Meng is faint, which is the gentle and graceful love of shepherdess. So my dream came quietly, but it carried a heavy past. Oh, now, I'm a little cold, a little cold and a little depressed.
Poetry 5
Grab a cool one from the pond and bring a mellow one from the orchard. Autumn has come, singing golden songs, coming to the city and coming to the countryside; There is no pride of spring breeze, no sadness of falling red, no enthusiasm of hot sun, no cold of frost and snow. You sang the hardships and bitterness of the long journey, but there was no disappointment and sadness. You sing the joy and satisfaction of the autumn harvest, but you are not conceited or arrogant.
Ah, I want to sing with you in the face of yellow flowers everywhere, Gui Xiang and autumn wind in the garden.