Those lost modern poems

(1)

One hand slowly

tore off the calendar

The dream was not awakened

Still sleeping peacefully in the empty days

There is rain knocking on the window

It just wets the glass

Lying with a heart In comfort

Looking at time

The years are passing away bit by bit

(2)

Putting a bouquet of flowers Entering the vase

Feeling complacent

But forgetting the splendor outside

Being surrounded by eyes for too long

It has become a habit

The temptation of a cloud

It’s just a moment

Where the wind blows, there is falling red

It spreads all over the ground

It’s better to miss each other than to see each other

(3)

The moment the door opens

The dandelions have just taken off

Departure without destination is doomed

A lifetime of wandering

Even if pear blossoms fall on my shoulders

I still can’t write about the splendor and harmony of spring

The state of mind of letting go

(4)

Searching and searching

Mountains or mountains or rivers

The so-called poetry< /p>

As soon as I rushed out of my head

I was blown away by the wind

The road ahead

In addition to being vast, it is still vast

Whether

When the mood is not sunny enough

All the efforts are without trace

(5)

The four seasons rotate

< p> Flowers always bloom

I just don’t know when

It becomes a flash in the pan

When the soul turns around

In fact, it falls Later, maybe

The brilliance of lack of will is

A shooting star rushing across