I left quietly,
When I came softly;
I waved gently,
Say goodbye to the western clouds.
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Golden willow by the river,
Is the bride in the sunset;
Shadows in the waves,
Ripple in my heart.
-
Green grass on the soft mud,
Oily, swaying at the bottom of the water;
In the gentle waves of He Kang River,
Willing to be an aquatic plant!
-
A pool in the shade of elm trees,
Not a clear spring, but a rainbow in the sky;
Crushed between floating algae,
Precipitate a rainbow-like dream.
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Looking for dreams? Holding a long rod (3),
Return to greener grassland (4);
Full of stars,
Play songs in a starry place.
-
But I can't play songs,
Quiet is a farewell flute;
Summer insects are also silent for me,
Silence is Cambridge tonight!
-
I left quietly,
Just as I came quietly;
I waved my sleeve,
Don't take away a cloud.
stagnant water
Wen Yiduo of stagnant water
This is a backwater of despair,
The breeze can't blow the slightest (yι).
Why don't you throw more rubbish,
Throw out your leftovers.
Maybe copper will turn green into jade,
A few rusty peach petals on the tin can;
Let greasy weave a layer of Luo Qi,
Mold steamed some clouds for him.
Let the stagnant water ferment into a ditch of green wine,
Filled with pearly foam;
Little Pearl smiled and became a big one.
I was bitten by a flower mosquito who stole wine again.
A desperate backwater ditch,
And a little image.
If frogs can't stand loneliness,
Dead water again. It is singing.
This is a backwater of despair,
This is definitely not the beauty,
Why don't we leave it to ugliness to cultivate,
See what kind of world it has created.
I love this land.
I love this land.
If I were a bird,
I should also sing with a hoarse throat:
This land hit by the storm,
This river of sadness and anger will surge forever,
This endless wind,
And the gentle dawn from the forest ...
And then I died,
Even feathers rot in the ground.
Why do I often cry?
Because I love this land deeply.
These three capitals are modern poems.
Jiang Xue is an ancient poem: Liu Tang, Jiang Xue, Zongyuan, hundreds of mountains without birds, thousands of paths without footprints. A boat, a bamboo cloak, an old man fishing in the cold Jiang Xue.