Beautiful modern poetry and short stories

1, Bian Zhilin's "Broken Chapter" You are standing on the bridge watching the scenery, and the scenic people are watching you upstairs. The bright moon decorated your window, and you decorated other people's dreams. 2. Bing Xin's "flower of success" People are only amazed at her present brilliance. However, at the beginning, her bud was soaked with tears of struggle and shed blood rain of sacrifice. 3. Xu Zhimo's Poem Annala is the gentlest bow, like a lotus that is too ashamed to be indifferent. It talks about cherishing and cherishing, and there is sweet sadness in that treasure-Poem Annala! 4. Xi Murong Art Exhibition I know that all beautiful people always refuse and will not stay for anyone. So, I hung my love and sadness on the wall for exhibition and sale. 5. Yu Youren's "National Mourning" buried me in a high mountain and looked at my mainland. The mainland is invisible, only crying. Bury me in the high mountain and see my hometown. Hometown is intangible and can never be forgotten. The sky is grey and the wilderness is vast. Shan Ye is a state-owned ruin. Well, we won't wander together-Byron Well, we won't wander together and spend this deep night, although this heart is still infatuated and the moonlight is still so bright. Because the sword can pierce the scabbard and the soul can pierce the chest, this heart has to stop breathing and love has to rest. Although night comes for love, it will soon be day, but in this moonlight world, we no longer roam together. "Shanghai-Hangzhou Train"-Xu Zhimo is in a hurry! Come on, come on! A cigarette, a mountain, a few clouds, a piece of water, a bridge, a muffled sound, a piece of pine, a clump of bamboo, a piece of red leaves: colorful fields, colorful autumn scenery, clear as a dream, vague and obscure-urge! Is it a wheel or time? Urging old Qiu, urging old age! "Sing a withered violet"-Shelley-This flower has lost its fragrance. Just like your kiss, it once breathed to me. That bright color has faded and no longer shines on you, the only one! A shriveled dead body, at a loss, stayed in my desolate chest, tormenting this still-burning heart with a cold and silent rest. I cried, tears didn't bring it back to life! I sigh, no fragrance pounces on me! Alas, this silent fate is its own, but it suits me best. I love this land. If I were a bird, I would also sing with a hoarse throat: this land hit by the storm, this river of sadness and indignation that will surge on us forever, this restless wind, and the incomparable gentle dawn from the forest ...-Later I died, and even my feathers rotted in the ground. Why do I often cry? Because I love this land deeply ... you stand on the bridge and watch the scenery, and the people watching the scenery look at you upstairs; The bright moon decorated your window, and you decorated other people's dreams. These are all my collections, and I hope LZ will adopt them. Oh =w= Go to the Oak Shuting. If I love you, I will never show off with your tall branches like climbing Campbell. If I love you-I will never repeat monotonous songs for the shade like an spoony bird; It not only brings cool comfort all year round like a fountain; Not only does it increase height and set off dignity like a dangerous peak. Even during the day. Even spring rain. No, these are not enough! I must be a kapok beside you, standing with you as a tree. Roots, clinging to underground leaves, touch each other in the clouds. Every time a gust of wind passes, we greet each other, but no one can understand us. You have your copper branches and iron stems, like knives, swords and halberds; I have my red flowers, like a heavy sigh and a heroic torch. We share cold waves, storms and lightning; We like mist, flowing mist and rainbow. Seemingly separated forever, but dependent for life. This is great love, this is loyalty: love-not only your stalwart body, but also the position you insist on, the land under your feet.