There are poems about youth.

This song "Youth" by Xi Murong is great! All the endings have been written, all the tears have begun, but suddenly I forget what it looks like. In that ancient summer that is gone forever, no matter how I pursue young you, your smiling face is very shallow, and it gradually fades after sunset. So fate opened the yellow title page and bound it badly with tears. I have read and reread, but I have to admit that youth is a too hasty book. To put it a little longer, Shu Ting's This Is Everything is also very good. If you don't give up hope, let's recite this song "This is Everything"-answer a young friend's "Everything" Shu Ting, not all trees are broken by the storm; Not all seeds can't find the soil to take root; Not all true feelings are lost in the desert of human heart; Not all dreams are willing to have their wings broken. No, not everything is like what you said, not all flames only burn themselves without illuminating others; Not all stars only indicate darkness and do not report dawn; Not all songs just pass by and won't stay in my heart. No, not everything is like you said! Not all appeals went unanswered; Not everything lost can't be compensated; Not all abyss is doomed; Not all destruction covers the weak; Not all souls can step on the mud under their feet; Not all the consequences are tears and blood stains, not smiles. All the present breeds the future, and all the future grows in yesterday. Hope and fight for it, please put it all on your shoulders. There is also this, which is also a good "youth" poem-Shen Qing's youth blooms and falls, which makes me tired but not regretful. The rain and snow in the four seasons make me ecstatic but haggard. Light wind and green dreams, light morning sleep, light clouds and light tears, light years. With the joy of wandering, I will never come back. No one hinted at the dry taste of homesickness when I was young. I want to snuggle up to every golden sunset, and every drop of transparent dew washes away my sadness. I met her in full bloom in the distant spring, like a beautiful fairy tale filled with dazzling brilliance. Allow me, song for you. I can't sleep every night. Allow me to cry for you. I can fly freely in tears. The sky in my dream is very big, and I am lying on your eyelashes. There were many days in my dream, but I began to want to go home. On that blue hillside, I will bury all my songs and wait for them to become human legends one day. The bloom of youth makes me tired but I don't regret it. The rain and snow in the four seasons make me ecstatic but haggard. Tangled clouds, tangled tears, tangled mornings, wandering winds, wandering dreams, wandering years.