April is also the season when lilacs bloom. Fragrant soft trees contain spring rain and flowers bloom one after another. Small petals are blooming with delicate purple and thousands of flowers, weaving beautiful eternity.
Who is in charge of falling flowers in the wind, thinking leisurely and thinking, picking the heart of lilacs, looking for elegance without makeup, and being sincere to the innocent hostages. Far away, the jade bird doesn't spread the news beyond the cloud. In the words of Tang and Song Dynasties, lilacs are sad and lingering in the rain, and * * * is lovesick and hateful, and Qian Qian in the courtyard is entangled in other thoughts. Who gave lilac a green heart,
Lilacs bloom and dream. In the dream, purple is looming, like a mist covering the face-to-face eyes, full of sadness, and those melancholy words sting your eyes.
2. Xi Murong's famous poem "First Meeting"/Xi Murong's beautiful dream, like a beautiful poem, is hard to find and often appears at the most unexpected moment.
I like that kind of dream, everything can start again, everything can be explained slowly, and I can even feel in my heart that all the wasted time can actually return to ecstasy and gratitude. My heart is full of happiness, just because you are right in front of my eyes and smiling at me, that's all.
I really like that dream, knowing that you have traveled thousands of miles for me, but I feel delicious and colorful, as if you and I just met for the first time. Choice/Xi Murong If I only meet you once in my next life, just for all the sweetness and sadness of that moment in hundreds of millions of light years, then let everything that should happen appear in an instant. I bowed my head and thanked all the planets for helping me meet you and leave you, completing a poem written by God, and then slowly growing old to walk with you/Xi Murong I have always wanted to walk up that beautiful mountain road with you. There are soft winds and white clouds. With you by my side, I listen to my happiness and gratitude. My request is actually very small. As long as there is a summer like that, as long as I have experienced that time, I will be greeted day after day. Some unexpected arrangements and so many trivial mistakes will slowly separate us, so that tonight I finally understand that all joys and sorrows have become ashes. I can't go anywhere in the world. Walking with you, Lotus Heart/Xi Murong I am a blooming summer lotus. I hope you can see me now. The wind and frost have not eroded the autumn rain, and the lush season has left me. I am elegant, not worried or afraid. Now is the most beautiful moment, but the door is locked behind the fragrant smile. Who knew my lotus heart missed it? You are either too early or too late to go back/Xi Murong's past life. I often turn around and say goodbye to my handkerchief, which floats into a cloud. How much I missed, how much I left, and finally became a water mark that sent me away from this life. I'm looking for footprints lost in previous lives and wading into your eyes. I looked back 500 times in my last life, only to pass by once in my life. I used it a thousand times to stop in front of you in this life. Ask Buddha: How many times does it take to look back before you can really live in your heart? You can only turn around frequently, like a moth to a fire, regardless of the consequences. I can look back a thousand times and ten thousand times for no reason. You are in my eyes, in my heart. I often look back and look forward to your gentleness. I look back on my past life. I look back at the lotus leaves on the boat and associate them with the sadness in my eyes. The Buddha in this life has made my thoughts come true. I'm tired after looking for it for a long time. I just want to stop in your arms and let your hand wipe the tears from my face. I just want your body. Warm my cold hands, don't ask me why I have been looking for you so far away in my life. I didn't drink Meng Po Tang. I'm worried about you. Don't ask me why I am crying. I still remember the despair when I left in my last life. I cried with joy. Tears fall on your chest. The sadness of past lives has blossomed into a dense lilac tree. I just want to join hands with you and watch that flower blossom into five petals under the tree to predict happiness for us. I still often look back on this life. I still don't drink Meng Po Tang. I will come to you in my next life. I will join hands with you to find five cloves, a flowering tree. How did Xi Murong let you meet me at my most beautiful moment? For this reason, I have been chanting in front of the Buddha for 500 years. Let's form a dusty Buddha, so I become a tree, growing in the sun along the only way you have to go. All the flowers are the hope of my previous life. When you approach, please listen carefully to the trembling leaves, which is my passion for waiting. When you finally ignore those friends who have fallen behind you, it's not petals, it's my dying heart fault/Xi Murong: If love can be explained, vows can be revised, and if our meeting can be rearranged, then life will be easier. One day, I can finally forget you. However, this is not a random legend, nor is it a big drama to be staged tomorrow. I can't find the manuscript and erase you from your youth. Xi Murong's ending has been written, and all the tears have already started, but suddenly I forget how it started. In that ancient summer that is gone forever, no matter how hard I try to pursue young you, your smiling face is very shallow and gradually fades away. After sunset, the haze turned over the yellow title page, and fate bound it badly with tears. I have read and reread, but I have to admit that Youth is a book in a hurry.
3. Find some beautiful modern poems, such as those written by Jing M.Guo and Xi Murong, and indicate the title and author Dai Wangshu in Yuxiang.
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane,
I hope to see
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
She does.
Clove-like color,
Lilac-like fragrance,
Sad as cloves,
Mourning in the rain,
Sadness and hesitation;
She lingers in this lonely rain lane,
Holding an oil-paper umbrella, like me,
Like me, I walked silently (chi | ch ù).
Cold, sadness and melancholy.
She approached quietly,
Get close and throw again.
Breathing eyes
She floated by.
Like a dream,
As sad and confused as a dream.
Floating like a dream
A lilac,
I passed this girl by;
She went away silently, far away,
Towards the decaying wall,
Walk through this rainy path.
In the lamentation of the rain,
Remove her color,
Spread her fragrance,
Disappeared, even hers
Breathing eyes
Lilac is melancholy.
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane,
I hope to float over.
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge. My memory Dai Wangshu My memory is loyal to me? More loyal than my best friend? It lives on burning cigarettes, pens painted with lilies, worn-out powder boxes, broken raspberries, half-drunk wine bottles, torn old poems, dried flowers, gloomy lamps, calm water, everything with and without souls. It is everywhere, just like I live in this world. It is timid, it is afraid of people's noise, but when it is lonely, it will approach me. Its voice is low, but its words are long, long, long and trivial, and will never stop. Its words are old-fashioned and always tell the same story; It has a harmonious tone and always sings the same tune. Sometimes I imitate the voice of a girl who loves jiao. Its voice is weak, with tears and sighs. Its visit is uncertain, at any time, anywhere, or in the early morning, when I have gone to bed, I feel sleepy; People will say it's impolite, but we are old friends. It will never stop unless I cry or sleep sadly, but I will never hate it because it is loyal to me. I really want to slam the car door, run to your side, and cry on your broad shoulders: "No way, really no way." I really want to hold your hand and escape to the sky and fields in Chuqing, without flinching or looking back. I really want to gather all my tenderness and let you finally wake up with a look that can't be appealed. I really want to, really want to ... my pain has turned into sadness. I can't think enough and I can't speak. To Shu Ting Oak, if I love you-
Never liked climbing Campbell flowers.
Show off yourself with your tall branches;
If I love you-
Never imitate spoony birds.
Repeat monotonous songs for the shade;
It's not just like a fountain.
Send cool comfort all year round;
It's not just a dangerous mountain peak.
Increase height and set off dignity.
Even during the day.
Even spring rain.
No, these are not enough!
I must be a kapok beside you,
Standing with you as the image of a tree.
Roots, clenched in the ground
Leaves, touching in the clouds.
Every gust of wind blows
We all greet each other,
But no one
Understand what we said.
You have your copper branches and iron stems.
Like a knife, like a sword,
Like a halberd;
I have my red flowers.
Like a heavy sigh,
Like a heroic torch.
We share cold waves, storms and lightning;
We like mist, flowing mist and rainbow.
As if we were separated forever,
But they are lifelong dependent.
This is great love,
Loyalty is here:
Love-
Not only love your strong body,
I also love your stand and the land under your feet. Xi Murong, the bride of Loulan, my lover once buried me with tears, wrapped my smooth body with pearls, jade and frankincense, and inserted bird feathers between my satin hair with trembling hands. He gently closed my eyes, knowing that he was the last image in my eyes, and scattered flowers on my chest, accompanied by his love and sadness. When the sun sets, the sky is bustling, and my lover leaves me alone, forever dark, forever sweet and sad. Sadly, I can never forgive you for waking me up so rashly, exposing me to the desolation I no longer know and breaking my once gentle heart. Only the sunset is still the sunset of that day, but who can bury me again and give me back my Millennium dream? I should still be the bride of Loulan.
4. Are there any modern poems that are sad or beautiful mistakes?
I walked through Jiangnan.
The appearance in the season is like the opening and falling of lotus flowers.
If the east wind does not come, catkins will not fly in March.
Your heart is like a lonely town, like a bluestone street leading to dusk.
Without a sound, the spring curtain in March can't be lifted.
Your heart is a small closed window.
My dada horseshoe is a beautiful mistake.
I am not a returnee, I am a passer-by.
Like the last cloud, hidden in the infinite blue sky, so let me die in your hands, as if I could finally die in your arms. Dai Wangshu's Rain Lane: Walking alone in a long, lonely rain lane with an oil-paper umbrella, hoping to meet a girl with a lilac knot. She is lilac-like color, lilac-like fragrance, lilac-like sadness, sadness in the rain, sadness and hesitation; She wanders in the lonely rain lane, holding an oil-paper umbrella, like me, with the same indifference, sadness, melancholy and silent hesitation. She silently approached, approached and took a breath. She floated like a dream, dreamlike, sad and confused. Like a lilac field in a dream, this girl floats by me; She walked away silently, walked away, walked towards the crumbling fence and walked through the rainy path. In the elegy of rain, her color faded, her fragrance dispersed, and even her sighing eyes were lilac-like melancholy. Holding an oil-paper umbrella, a person lingers in a long, long, long, long rain lane, hoping to float past a girl with a clove knot.
5. Modern poems about homesickness (not for Xi Murong and Yu Guangzhong) July 10 13:50 "Looking Back"
Inscription:
Buddha said: Looking back 500 times in the past life can only be exchanged for passing by once in this life.
So, how many times do I have to look back before I can really live in your heart? (-Xi Murong)
In previous lives, I looked back frequently.
Farewell handkerchief floating into the clouds.
How much you miss, how much you leave.
The last watermark sent me away.
In this life, I look for lost footprints in previous lives.
Walk through Qian Shan and walk into your eyes.
Looking back 500 times in previous lives is worth passing by once in this life.
I used a thousand times to look back in exchange for stopping in front of you in this life.
Ask Buddha: How many times do you have to look back before you can really live in your heart?
The Buddha is speechless, and I only look back frequently.
Like a moth to a fire.
You can ignore the consequences, you can have no reason.
Looking back and looking back.
Thousands of times, you are in my eyes, in my heart.
I often look back and look forward to your tenderness.
I often recall my wish to be together.
I looked back on the boat in my previous life.
Lotus leaves connect the sadness in my eyes one by one.
The Buddha in this life has fulfilled my yearning.
Let me into your eyes
I've been looking for it for a long time. I'm tired.
Just want to rest in your arms
I just want your hand to wipe the tears from my face.
I just want your body temperature to warm my cold hands.
Don't ask me why I've been looking for you.
I didn't drink Meng Po Tang, and I was worried about you.
Don't ask me why I am crying.
I didn't drink Meng Po Tang, but I still remember the despair when I left in my last life.
Said I cried for joy.
Tears fall on your lapel.
All the sorrows in previous lives have blossomed into dense lilac trees.
I just want to join hands with you under the tree, look at those five blooming flowers and predict happiness for us.
I still often look back in my life.
I still don't drink Meng Po Tang in my life.
In the afterlife, I will look for you all the way.
In the afterlife, I will hold hands with you to find the five petals.
Flowering tree
Xi Murong
How to let you meet me
In my most beautiful moment
for this reason
I prayed in front of the Buddha for 500 years.
Pray for Buddha to let us have a dusty relationship.
Buddha made me a tree.
Follow the path you may take.
Under?the?sun
Carefully full of flowers.
Every flower carries my previous hopes.
When you get close,
Listen carefully
Trembling leaves
This is the passion I am waiting for.
When you walked under the tree, you didn't notice me.
On the ground behind you
My friend,
Not falling petals
But my withered heart.
6. Ask Zheng Chouyu, Dai Wangshu, Xi Murong and Xu Zhimo for their poems. If they are good, please list them as the best answers. Thank you.
Zheng Chouyu was wrong.
I walked across the south of the Yangtze River, waiting for the lotus to appear in the season. Catkin in March can't fly. Your heart is like a lonely town. Qingshi street, the night is silent. In March, the spring curtain does not show the heart. It's a beautiful mistake to hold my horseshoe tightly. I am not a passer-by.
Zheng Chouyu-Fengcheng
Walking in the starry sky, one of the great Wushan series reminds me of the noisy porch, holding the rainbow in one hand and disassembling the bun in the other, and the line is drifting away and fading away. The wandering daughter Hua married the Han nationality, and the wind in the morning and evening stirred her fairy thoughts, so she swam across the shallow galaxy to see the rainbow, and a cloud drifted away from now on.
Dai Wangshu-Yuxiang
Holding an oil-paper umbrella, I wandered alone in a long, lonely rain lane, hoping to meet a girl with a lilac knot. She is lilac-like color, lilac-like fragrance, lilac-like sadness, sadness in the rain, sadness and hesitation; She wanders in this lonely rain lane, holding an oil-paper umbrella, as indifferent, sad and melancholy as I am. She approached silently and breathed a sigh of relief. She floated like a dream, dreamlike, sad and confused. Like a lilac field in a dream, this girl floats by me; She walked away silently, walked away, walked towards the crumbling fence and walked through the rainy path. In the elegy of the rain, her color faded, her fragrance dispersed, even her sighing eyes and the melancholy of lilacs. Holding an oil-paper umbrella, a person lingers in a long, long, long, long rain lane, hoping to float past a girl with a clove knot.
Dai Wangshu-Dream Seeker
Dreams will blossom, and dreams will bloom beautiful flowers: to find priceless treasures. In the blue sea, at the bottom of the blue sea, there is a golden shell. Climb the iceberg for nine years, sail in the dry sea for nine years, and then you will meet the golden shell. It has the sound of clouds and rain in the sky and the sound of wind and waves on the sea, and it will fascinate your heart. Then, it blooms in the dark. When your temples are covered with spots or spots, when your eyes are hazy, the golden shell spits out peach beads. Put the peach beads in your arms and put them on the pillow, and a dream rises quietly. Your dreams bloom, your dreams bloom beautifully, when you are old.
Xi Murong-Hope
In fact, all I expected was that moment. I never asked you to give me your life.
If I can meet you on the hillside full of gardenias, if I can love you deeply once and then leave.
Such a long life, when you look back, is only a short moment.
Xi Murong-Zen-Part Two
When it's all over, I know I'll forget you slowly.
The burden in my heart has been lifted. Please forgive me. Life means constant injury and recovery.
The world is still an orchard, waiting for me to mature gently.
The sky is so blue, the trees are so green, and life can be so calm and beautiful.
Xu Zhimo-Nora of Shi 'an-One of the eighteen songs of Japanese girls.
The gentleness of bowing your head is the most, like the shyness of a hibiscus out of water, and the cool wind can't blow it. It says "treasure" and "treasure", and there is sweet sadness in that treasure-Nora, Shian!
Xu zhimo-by chance
I am a cloud in the sky, which occasionally projects in your heart-you don't have to be surprised, let alone happy-and disappears in a blink of an eye. You and I met in the dark sea. You have yours and I have mine. Remember the direction. You'd better forget the light released by each other at this meeting!
7. Good words and sentences of oil-paper umbrella should be no less than 300 words. The rain lane is holding an oil-paper umbrella and wandering alone in a long, long and lonely rain lane. I hope to meet a girl as sad as lilac. She is as colorful as cloves, as fragrant as cloves, as sad as cloves, complaining and hesitating in the rain; She lingered in this lonely rain lane with an oil-paper umbrella. Like me, she walked silently, cold, sad and melancholy. She quietly approached and breathed a sigh of relief. She floated like a dream, like a lilac field, and this girl floated beside me. She walked away silently, far away, towards the crumbling fence and through the rainy lane. In the elegy of the rain, her color disappeared, her fragrance dispersed, and even her sighing eyes and lilac-like melancholy. Holding an oil-paper umbrella, I wandered alone in a long, lonely rain lane, hoping to float across a clove-like knot.