You have to understand for yourself.
dusk
On a young night
I heard a song.
Clear and lingering
Like a mountain wind blowing through lilies.
When I longed again, I was silent.
No trace, no place
Leaving the moonlight in the air makes people feel warm.
One night twenty years later.
What is the similarity of that night?
I make the melody light.
Mountain valley should reach my heart.
Looking back on the road.
The green of the gray horizon.
This is a hard life.
Turn into sweet tears in the twilight.
This is a delicate and touching beautiful poem, full of sincere and eager love. When we walk through colorful flowers, pleasant paths, or a solitary flower and a piece of green, will we think that some vast creatures around us are guarding us, blessing us, loving us deeply and being beautiful and happy because of our existence?
Love is a kind of pain and happiness; Sadness is a kind of happiness and also a kind of pain. Does the essence of reincarnation really realize the continuation and transmission of emotions? Or is the beauty around you revealing the information of love?
Let us pray together!
-RoyceWong.
A persistent and unrepentant poetess, a persistent and unrepentant heart song.
When we were young, we were willing to be a flowering tree and look forward to maturity. However, time ignores desire. Growth and transformation are the inevitable course of flowers blooming and falling, and the beauty of time lies in its inevitable passage.
What blooms in the sun is heavy color, and the desolation of falling flowers is abrupt and sad. Is it really a human form cultivated in 10 thousand years, and then a secular desire cultivated in 10 thousand years can stand in front of the person you love and shed the first tear?
Blessed are those who can seriously love each other in ordinary days!
This poem shows us a lonely heart, full of expectations for love but seemingly unknown. Her (his) feelings are sincere and earnest, and there is no lack of persistence when she is sad. What we can give may only be infinite blessings: May this lonely heart find its home.
In today's society, such a story may not happen. But this may become a sign that love needs to persist.
Zhibin Li
Maybe it was doomed to be wrong from the beginning, but I don't want to believe that our fate only met once.
Five hundred years of waiting turned back to the moment of meeting. If I wait another 500 years or more, will you see how my expectations of you are full of trees?
A tree blooms only once, and a person is beautiful only once. Just because you can meet me, at my most beautiful moment, you walked past in desperation and stepped on layers of flowers.
You smile and enjoy the music playing under your feet. Oh, my friend, it turns out that you love not the sound of flowers, but heartbreak.
When you walked by, you took away all your stories, and my story has not yet begun.
When you walked by in disregard, I realized that meeting is not beautiful, but wrong.
Liu Xiaoying
A few years later, a flower tree quietly bloomed with her white face.
However, after the precipitation and erosion of time, can we still have a full and clean heart? Xi Murong's poems have been read for a long time. At that time, I was still young I just think her poems are beautiful and hazy, which just fits the characteristics of girls' fantasy. So I often copy these poems in a small diary, with some illustrations, and carefully collect them, just like some so-called secrets hidden at that age. All this is just like Xi Murong's "Andante":
There must be something I can't understand.
Otherwise, vegetation will grow in order.
And migratory birds can fly back to their hometown.
There must be something I can't do.
Otherwise, how can the alternation of day and night be so fast?
All the moments are missed.
Sorrow erodes my heart.
There must be something.
I had to give up after the leaves fell.
Is it my diary when I was sixteen or
I've hidden it all my life.
Those beautiful secrets are like lilies.
Youth without regrets
In her poems, I can be a flowering tree or a carefree lily, spotless and dreaming of a girl.
Be older, read more of her poems, and read more deeply. At that time, a favorite song, many people don't know, "Cliff Chrysanthemum". It may be because they are in a rebellious period psychologically, or because teenagers don't know the taste of trouble, so in order to allocate new words, they insist on saying trouble.
White as Snow
Fierce as fire
Winding to the deepest valley bottom.
My hidden wish
This is the last flower in autumn.
Cliff chrysanthemum
Nine articles of the times
When I first knew what love was, I fell madly in love with another poem by Xi Murong, The Death of Bai Niao. I posted it on the BBS. It was a sad poem, and I always imagined that if I wrote a novel based on it, it would be very touching.
If you are a tearful shooter
I am the man.
Bai Niao is determined not to dodge.
Just wait for the arrow to come by surprise.
Walk into my broken heart
If you are the only one in the world
The only gunman who can hurt me
I am all your youth.
All the emotions that can't be forgotten.
It's like the last cloud
Hidden in the infinite blue sky
Then let me die at your hands
It's like finally being able to
Die in your arms
Youth without regrets
At that time, I was stupid and secretly loved someone, but he only regarded me as a "confidant" and shared his love history with him. At the same time, I am imagining a vigorous love, just like that Bai Niao, but I am imagining desperately resisting an arrow for him and then dying in his arms. Of course, I will finally struggle to see him for the last time and let him remember me for a lifetime with the most bitter and beautiful eyes.
Some people think that Xi Murong's poems are too stingy and feminine. Yes, most of her poems are elegant, but there are also many bold words. For example, a song, Exodus, was later set to music and sung by Cai Qin and Zhang Qingfang.
Please sing a song for me.
In that forgotten ancient language
Please call gently with a beautiful vibrato.
Great rivers and mountains in my heart
That smell only exists outside the Great Wall.
Anyone who speaks SEG tunes is too sad.
If you don't want to hear it,
That's because there is no desire for you in the song.
We always have to sing and sing.
Thinking of the golden light shining on the grassland thousands of miles away
Thinking about the wind and sand whistling across the desert
Reflections on the banks of the Yellow River and Yinshan Mountain
The hero rode home.
And reading such poems often gives birth to some pride in my heart. Was Xi Murong the daughter of the prairie? The amorous feelings beyond the Great Wall can also be seen everywhere in her poems.
In the trembling wind, every flower blinks carefully; Under the bright moon in the sky, every leaf gently shakes its little hand, expecting and praying. Maybe tomorrow's sunrise, maybe the morning after tomorrow?
On the road you must pass, there is a flower tree blooming quietly and enthusiastically. ...
You neglected. ...
Perhaps, life is like this. On the long road of life, you have struggled in rags and broke your head, but in the end you can only stand alone in the west wind, and your figure will be portrayed on the mottled ancient road like the dying sun. . . . . However, you persist, the trembling leaves are the passion of your life, and the intoxicating fragrance is the fruit of your centuries-old brewing. You stick to it until the dust settles and the mountains grow high. This unrepentant persistence in hope and this stubborn interpretation of life may become a faint light on the vast sea in our hearts-there must always be a persistence in life, our roots and our desire to live. ...
"In the dark clouds/tears left at the end/missed or missed encounters/life/poems can always be written at the end/after the rainstorm, my heart will be cleaner/if you are willing to wait for all the clouds/in the end, they will all merge into rivers." There are not only colorful fallen English on the ground, but also sparkling angel tears ...-those that wither will bloom.
Smart people always fill their brains with other people's wisdom, while stupid people always interfere with their emotions with other people's wisdom. William James