Who knows a poem by Xi Murong, Qilixiang?

Li Qi Xiang Xi Murong wrote a volume of Qi Li Xiang. In ancient times, there was the same story. Is the woman who plays graceful and graceful also sixteen? Or did I say I'm the woman tonight? Xiang longs for the waves flowing to the ocean, but she longs for returning to land. She waved goodbye so easily in front of the hedge with green trees and white flowers, but after twenty years of vicissitudes, our souls returned every night. As soon as the breeze blows, it turns into a garden full of fragrance, and the dream of mature childhood fades. I no longer just want to be an elf with wings. On a moonlit night, I lean against the window with my slender hand and stick my fiery cheek on the stone fence. In the shadow of the ancient ivy, there are fireflies swimming. I no longer keep a diary like a running account, but in the dark blue and light blue pages of tears, I change them into dense and vague handwriting. There is a saying that no one knows how a flowering tree made you meet me at my most beautiful moment. For 500 years, I have been begging this in front of the Buddha, begging him to let us form a dusty Buddha, so I became a tree, growing in the sun along the road you must take, which was my hope in my previous life. Please listen carefully when you approach. Trembling leaves are my passion for waiting, but when you finally ignore them. Walking slowly behind you, friends who have fallen to the ground are not petals, but my withered heart, just because you look back. It reminds me of evening and morning-the ancient Yuefu had the same story in that ancient era. Is the woman who plays graceful dancing sixteen? Or am I the woman who has played a graceful dance for thousands of years? A gentle and humble soul crying when flowers are in full bloom? Then don't laugh at me even if I cry. How many times have I left the same song under a tree full of magnolia trees? How many beautiful voices have sung ancient acacia songs on this warm spring night? Let me shake hands with you at the ferry and then gently pull out my hand, knowing that my thoughts will take root and sprout from now on, and the mountains and rivers during the day are solemn and gentle, so let me shake hands with you and then gently pull out my hand. It is so helpless that tears will stop and merge into a river in my heart. Keep an eye on the ferry. If you can't find flowers to send, please keep your blessings in mind and pray the next day. I know that there is no absolute beauty in this world, and I know that it has only one chance to leave and grow old. However, Lord, please listen to my prayer. Please give me a long summer, a flawless memory, a gentle heart and a white love. I can only come to this world once, so please give me another beautiful name so that he can whisper to me at night. In the years of Mercedes-Benz, I will always remember what we once loved. So the night of 1 1 month came and knocked on my window. I woke up from the fragrance of the south and the dream of going home. The lights in Brussels are brilliant. I was the only one in the crowd. The crowd threw me a lonely drizzle, not my tears.