Essays on Aesthetic Love Part I: Listening to Ripples and Breeze,
The originally calm heart lake is rippling again.
Silent gaze:
Ripples beat gently on the shore of the lake,
As if calling softly: honey, come on, let's party together! ?
Listen quietly:
That ripple seems to be telling an endless love;
Or yearning and expectation for a better life;
More like shouting:
Wind! Come more violently! Set off higher waves!
Let two hearts collide fiercely!
Day after day, day after day,
Continue this unforgettable and indelible love!
Essay 2 on Aesthetic Love: I will accompany you all the way to pull a cloud on the horizon and cover your tired face.
Bow a clear spring and wash away the dust accumulated over the years.
Pick up a petal of rain, warm the lonely heart,
Pick a red leaf and let go of your long-awaited thoughts.
The footsteps of time keep the bleak moonlight out of the window.
Falling flowers are telling the helplessness of parting.
A bald pen dipped in transparent ink is full of paper.
He not only left a promise, but also was full of ideas.
Although my heart is exhausted, on the way forward,
My smile will accompany you all the way.
Prose poem 3 on aesthetic love: I look forward to a rain and a world of mortals, and I am drunk with the sunset glow.
It also touched the infinite emotion in my heart.
Nightmares bring darkness and solemnity with the moon shadow,
The shadow of the tree has been pulled for a long time, showing so helplessness and loneliness.
The night in the city is silent with flowers, which makes the dream thin and clear.
But the unwillingness between the eyebrows is still boiling in the world of mortals.
Flowers fade, and years wash away the fallen flowers and bones.
Time brings the most beautiful feelings into my heart and gently buries my thoughts.
Sad rain falls with the clouds and tears, and the evening breeze sends away the falling flowers.
The stars are shaking away the years, and the moon shadows are dancing in the distant time.
The flowers have not yet fallen, and the world of mortals is rolling into the sea.
Outside the west window, thoughts spread little by little with the night.
But the night breeze has blurred the eyes of dust.
And the fragrance of flowers in the rain lane has already drifted into a light cloud.
I hope the drunken word has gone to sleep, and the flowers have long since passed.
There is only hope in my heart, a rain of flowers,