Seeking two self-created modern poems

The drizzle started slightly, dreaming of the breeze in the south of the Yangtze River. When passing by, I stepped on a lotus boat and supported a bamboo pole, and reached the deepest part of the south of the Yangtze River, where my waist was slender and my singing was melodious. My Jiangnan is the jingle of the girl who draws water, the sweetness of the woman who picks lotus, and the loud voice of the woman who sells flowers. My Jiangnan is wet on the bluestone slab, graceful in the lotus pond, fluttering up and down in the falling flower wind, while the wine flag is stirred high in the depths of apricot flowers, and the setting sun hangs at the door of Wuyi Lane. My Jiangnan is dancing from the misty rain, and the beautiful eyes I am looking forward to illuminate the prosperous old dreams of Shili Qinhuai; My Jiangnan comes from the singing in the shallow rosewood pipa, and the melodious fairy sound touches the piper's gentle heartstrings. My Jiangnan, with a handful of crystal clear spring water and a white lotus flower, quietly gathered 3,000 black and bright moss, carefully and densely, forming a round wreath. My Jiangnan, dancing lightly in Zhuang Sheng's butterfly dream, smiling alone in the wind of weak willows in Yuxi, curling up in Du Mu's cardamom, and blowing cold in the clear corner of Jiangkui 24 Bridge. My boat, gently passing through the Tang-style Song Corridor, stood quietly outside the city of Gusu, which is full of fragrant sleeves. Listen to the long and clear bell and break the melancholy thoughts of lonely wanderers; Look at the maple bridge with the sound of oars and the shadow of lights, and look at the melancholy eyes of the lonely journey in the misty world; Look at that young and tall scholar, playing the flute under the moon and singing wine and drinking through the ages. My boat, slowly passing through the powder wall, Dahe and Yangliufeng, silently stared at the lonely and deep rain in the long lane. Look at the delicate and fragrant lilacs full of sadness, and look at the elegant and demure cheongsam woman, with jade wrists and graceful hands, slowly dancing the oil-paper umbrella in her hand into an ethereal poem. My boat, wandering in the arms of Jiangnan. Bow down, lakes and mountains, waves rippling; Looking up, the countryside is picturesque and the moonlight is like water. My boat, wandering in Jiangnan water town, is like being immersed in the rich fragrance of daughter red, shocking and dazzling. My Jiangnan is the mellow wine brewed by the poems of gifted scholars and the smiles of beautiful women, the scenery interwoven with apricot flowers, spring rain, breeze and waning moon, and the amorous feelings reflected by rivers and bridges. My Jiangnan is both poetic and romantic. My Jiangnan is gentle, charming and warm. My Jiangnan is graceful and beautiful. My Jiangnan is as beautiful and elegant as a graceful beauty, with bright eyes like water, thick eyebrows like smoke, enchanting and charming, and a smile like a flower. The fireworks in March are her affectionate whispers, soft and speechless. The filariasis in July is her gentle eyes, and she gets drunk without wine. And I, who walk through Jiangnan every day, have already been drunk in my gentle Jiangnan appearance, so drunk that I don't know where to go. ...