Sixth grade prose poetry: "Rain Alley" under the sunset

Under the setting sun

The evening clouds scatter brocade in the dusk sky,

The stream flows gold in the remaining sun;

My slender shadow Floating on the ground,

Like the lonely ghost of the ancient trees in the mountains.

The mountains in the distance turn purple with weeping,

Mourning the growing sun at the end of the day;

The fallen leaves are flying in welcome

At the end of the night The breeze at the corner of the clothes

The fragrance of the valley flows out of the deserted graves,

The bats are fascinated by the old branches,

Their lingering whispers< /p>

Echoing low in the evening smoke.

You night secretly return from the end of the world,

I still linger in love alone;

In this lonely heart, I am

Sixth grade: Xi Qian