Eyes and heart
Full of romance and snow
The poet's body is a mortal's body.
Eat whole grains and drink tap water.
Earn money to support his wife and children.
Poets occasionally lament that they are poets.
It is best to have a new moon and three months' salary.
It is not as good as more than a month's moon.
People eat more than rice and white flour.
The swollen stomach devours birds and animals.
The poet cried out for blood in the voice of a cuckoo.
Politicians deceive the world with lies.
The world looked at the poet with angelic eyes.
A poet can only use a pen as a knife and want to cry without tears.
Drain the last drop of blood
Or bend over.
If you die, you will be buried in the pure land.
The poet's thoughts have been brewing for a long time.
Sometimes crazy, sometimes calm.
Wet the scenery on the road
A poet is neither a singer nor a dancer.
Apart from writing poems, I am poor.
Every section has the flavor of singing and dancing.
Poets never get tired of worldly affairs.
I've seen enough lies and laughter.
Show your heart in front of the children.
The poet has a restless soul.
Every drop of sweat and tears
Will sprout and bloom.
Poets are very emotional.
A flower, a song, a picture.
It will touch the heartstrings, and tears will fall down.
The poet is willful, and his poems are full of loneliness.
I haven't had time to hug.
The figure is already on the next road.
* The first snow
A pure white landscape.
Bloom in the howling wind
Thousands of flowers crowded in.
Between the earth and the moon
People who have never been to the north
Will be shocked by this scene.
Forget the noise and troubles.
Lying on the ground listening to the snow
A flower blooms and a hundred flowers wither.
Wash your eyes and purify your mind.
The children were frolicking among the flowers.
Unconsciously smearing vivid pictures.
Take a look at rejuvenation.
There are six petals hanging on the lattice tree.
Ice sculptures and snow build a pure and real world.
Every time I watch it, I feel moved to cry.
Whether it's tears in a previous life.
Or the ups and downs of this life
Falling will cover it up.
dust
I don't want anyone to bother me at that moment.
Just want to be with snowflakes
Stay alone for a while
Don't want to say anything
Poets are a dangerous profession.
If you are not careful, you will die.
/
That night,
He picked up a cigarette by himself.
But I don't have the courage to light it.
Facing the infinite darkness in front of the window
There is only one piece of paper.
A few scrawled words on a piece of paper
/
That night,
He is blowing the wind.
Walking on the concrete pavement in the village
He is afraid of hearing his own footsteps.
A sound like plum blossom falling snow
Smash water like a stone.
/
The temperature at night is always lower than during the day.
Black is so familiar.
For example, the vastness of thinking
Can't see the difference.
/
In the evening, the poet is walking.
Extremely pale blue moonlight
Cover the wheat field like dawn.
Dry or wet
/
quiet
The shadow of the tree reminded him of the time.
Always empty.
I also like this text.
There is no existence without thinking.
/
It is dangerous to be alone at night.
Walking slowly will approach a cemetery.
Walking slowly will be a long way.
/
Thinking belongs to night.
Daytime is noise.
/
Poets are not afraid of noise.
Although it drowned itself.
Violent murder
/
This is life.
/
The poet is thin.
Like a girl. Transparent clothes.
This metaphor is very inappropriate.
Girls are too far away from poets.
/
We always see leaves falling.
Not thinking about the death of a tree.
Poets die easily.
Like leaves floating away
But I hate the meanness of trees.
/
Poets do the opposite of trees.
/
He has courage.
He is very determined.
He is not afraid of death.
/
Poets love life.
enjoy life
/
Speaking of separation.
Just because of deeper love.
It's as if we are far away from the people we love.
The heart will be warm and full of love.
There are not many words about the poet's poem, but listen carefully to what it means. Between the lines, according to your wishes, a good marriage should be exposed.
A bird is on a twig, and a bird is dancing with the wind alone. Time flies, the years have passed, and I really admire you for being happy and carefree today.
Pan Xiaoshi River is a canoe, swimming in the wind alone. Reading widely has no other desire but to spread the reputation of heroes.
You swim alone in the river of history, and a few souls are worried about it. How carefree you were when you were born, how can you expect your soul to stand up? Few soul people praise, and the wind caters to the king's love. Therefore, guests should think well and do whatever they want.
Read the history books in a hurry and savor them alone. Time is like walking in a hurry. Unfortunately, Shihe has few heroes and souls. No matter how happy you are when you are born, it is hard to trace after you fall. How many generations have known how happy our ancestors were?
Time flies, and the river of life is hard to imagine. Originally a talent, I didn't expect the brain stem to fall on the road. Carelessly caressing the iron cover, after thinking about it, He Xiuyu's life is slim. There are always dead people under the car. When can we get together and open our hearts?
True or false, true or false, Xiu Gankun. Everyone in the world deceives the kings, and history books show the wind and cloud. There have been at least several curses in my life, and the passage of time is clear. If the sky meets the soul, you will regret it after listening to it.
You choose to live or die, no matter how carefree you are, you will eventually close your eyes and be silent. There are tens of millions before you die, and you will disappear after you die. What you do is admired by a few gentlemen, and your good reputation can be passed down from generation to generation. If you read the ancient history books carefully, you can know the fate of your ancestors. So, get well as soon as possible, and your reputation will be passed down in front of you. After Jiao Jun's death, the praise of his good name will spread for thousands of years.
The charm of fine products and groups can be found in several places of ancient heroes. Countless souls turned into clouds, asking ancestors when they were gentlemen. Everyone has lived for decades, and history books show the soul and are ruthless. So time is not wasted, and promising things can be circulated for thousands of years.
It is of little use to pursue the charm of ancient and modern times. Happy and carefree, you can live a few times and eventually fade away. Ask the ancestors carefully, how many gentlemen can know luxury? So, hold the stick carefully and think about what you want.
Poems about Poets 4 Nanchuan River in Xining
Hold the winter skirt and look up at the sky.
A white cloud in the blue sky
I can understand her language.
People who miss you can't forget it.
When we were together.
Spring thousands of miles away.
Meeting you is a kind of fate.
Light up the smile on your face and mine.
At first, I was shy.
Envy a pair of flying butterflies
There are no lyrics in front of you.
I have flowers.
Shake your hand and shout, come down.
There are so many colors here.
You know, in this life.
Can't hold hands, just for me.
Dance a beautiful scenery in the journey of life.
Spiritual you.
Constantly changing forms
It shows a feeling of softness and intimacy.
There is joy in my heart.
My heavy shoulders
In fatigue, there is also lightness in flying.
You said the beauty of the sun's refraction.
I said that the earth is rich in crops.
You said you missed it.
Stay in the city where I live.
I said I was a transparent white cloud.
The heart will not be cold in winter.
Separate time
Have the crystallization of tears.
You became Hada.
Ask me to hold up my flying mood with my hands
You can look up and down.
Tashildler is eternal in our hearts.
Poetry about the Poet 5 She, a stubborn poet,
From Neptune's surface at dawn
Raise the flying sail for the hero,
Fiddling with and covering up last night's faint expectations,
In a euphemistic way, trace
Your own confused figure-
Think in front of the ethereal lamp.
Poems of three days and three nights,
To the confused and sad passerby-that.
The beautiful image of loneliness, the spirit under the moon,
Angels in dreams, pedestrians tonight;
In Ji Kang's prose history of guqin,
Listening, thinking, confused,
Touching the sacred wind chimes with the melodious songs of the Drum Tower,
Suddenly disappeared into the sad secret of the night god vast expanse,
Only her paintings are scattered on the windowsill of orchids;
Work hard, get lost and panic in the street,
Gently withdraw the tears, and then quietly hide,
Looking for the happiness of spearmint in a red dream,
Even if there are pictures of death and sadness in happiness,
She still comforts the lost lamb who came back from the wilderness,
Turning Lao Dan's clear tears into a wisp of pine sound in the building view,
Through the subtle sadness between 5,000 words,
Stubbornly nail the happy figure under the bodhi with steel nails;
Her smile became monotonous, dim and gloomy.
In her face, three monsters shook the sky.
Empty nights-
She joined hands with demons and angels to talk, plot and plan in the dark clouds.
They strutted across the waist of death.
Standing proudly in the towering pavilion,
Discard your figure wandering on the horizon,
Looking at the silent sky tonight,
In Ji Kang's prose history of guqin,
Listening, thinking, confused,
Touching the sacred wind chimes with the melodious songs of the Drum Tower,
Suddenly disappeared into the sad secret of the night god vast expanse,
Only her paintings are scattered on the windowsill of orchids.