The most refined modern poem 1: The rainy season of chrysanthemum is in the wet and restless season.
Let boredom turn over the diary of time
Has been far away from the age of ignorance
Finally, I can recall the gray years alone.
The evening breeze is wrapped in sobs.
Curled yellow petals float away helplessly.
The last warmth in the palm gradually dissipated.
Leaving only a sigh.
The candlelight reflected the silent ending.
Melt into a biting chill in the wind and rain
Yesterday, the yellow flowers withered alone.
Facing you, as elegant as a chrysanthemum
The most refined modern poem II: A bird's eye view of the eagle's nest on the cliff.
Just like the Sanskrit package is empty.
On a crumbling island.
Telling the helplessness of life.
The pride of flying with white clouds.
I don't care about the charming charm of camellia.
Only earth-shattering running gives life.
It's worth sticking out your sharp claws.
Respond to the rabbit's pious prayer
Track the noise of rock sheep rolling in.
Wrap around the target
Wait patiently and draw your sword.
My own most refined modern poem 3: doubt and doubt
I have a cold. She is very quiet.
Giving birth to a daughter is called warmth.
In the vein of spring leaves
I think I can dream.
Take off your raincoat in the wind.
You are on the annual ring of time
Planting peony flowers
You are one of the egrets.
White forehead
Waved to me
Let the dust in my dreams begin to age.
When I remember a bell
A bright moon rose on the sea.
I saw through the horizon.
I've spent countless years
Forgotten and scarred
Do you still believe in life?