That faint sadness
The sadness of dreams
I am the only one who is vaguely telling.
That oath was repeated a thousand times.
An empty oath
In the dark, I chose silence.
Cold eyes
I can only quietly shed turbid tears every morning and evening.
When everything is too leisurely.
Only violent souls are left.
Crazy dance, lonely swing
Finally tired, kneeling on the ground.
Let sweat flow down and evaporate.
leaving no trace
Open your long-lost hands and find out.
Beauty has solidified into an outline.
In the endless waiting, there is only one body left in love.
Sing for love
The voice is too weak and there is a morbid desolation.
Turn around decisively and the dream will be restored.
I opened my eyes and found myself lying in bed.
The moonlight shone on one leg under the window.
Only one eye is in the moonlight.
It turned out to be just a dream.
What's left after waking up?
The moonlight is bright
Still a vague memory.
Beautiful Poems about Dreams Alley
The deep alleys are wrapped in a bustling city.
It was as quiet as a child. Before I touched her, it slept soundly.
From her innocent smile, the morning breeze blows slowly.
Approaching carefully, approaching again, the old wall is her intoxicating coat.
The floor covered with blue moss is her hairpin. It turns out that she also has a lover.
A two-story building, like a silent and selfless guardian, has been standing.
Their hearts have been standing, and they are old.
A wisp of dust, accidentally stopped from my hand and quietly fell into the mortal world.
Thick smoke from the kitchen, through the afternoon sunset, opened a flower and wrapped it in
Pigeons on the red tile face in the same direction. What do you think?
This path paved with fine stones is three or four meters wide, and she uses a hundred meters of beautiful scenery.
Soften the footsteps of passers-by and warm the winter morning.
Let the tottering old couple use their gray hair to prolong the taste of love.
From the moment we met her, there was a feeling of first love in our hearts.
And when we finally want to wave goodbye, we must have bitter thoughts in our hearts.
At that time, did we have an epiphany So we already know each other.
At that time.
At that time, the morning light was like years.
I found your beauty in the clear morning dew.
When the stream flows when I am happiest in my dream.
In the afternoon, the bell rang, and I was very calm in the bamboo forest.
Asking about your news. In February, the cold plum blossoms unconsciously.
Muddy spring rain, excited to kiss the wooden house again.
I opened the door and waited for the first secret of the earth.
What a crisp and eager voice, announcing the return of birds.
Tiptoe, slowly, to the field, that's all.
I became a seed in the soil and ran to the blue sky.
With a little perseverance needed for growth, the breeze swayed slightly.
Tick-tock is a naughty appearance in spring.
Spring has come, joy has come, spring has come, and the future is near.
I asked around about the news of spring and a dusty heart.
Old things, and you who are mysterious and curious.
③ Life
The intoxicating green in the distance
Please stuff your happiness into my empty pocket.
Parting is about to begin at this moment.
What else can dispel the faint sadness
The continuous cold rain in February
Fell heavily in my heart full of expectation
Time is also in a hurry.
What can stop the flow of time?
This seemingly bleak one hundred-year life.
Run away, disappear
What else can catch its trail?
④ It rains.
The sudden cold air covered the sun.
The silent earth is clothed with wisdom again.
There are traces of rain in Mao Mao last night everywhere.
When did a cool breeze wake me up through the window?
Everything is going on quietly.
There is only a black puppy wandering around the corner.
Make a hullabaloo about and vent your inner dissatisfaction to the world.
⑤ afterlife
In the afterlife, I would like to be a tall and straight pine bamboo opposite my home.
Every time I grow a green leaf, I declare that I respect life more.
Wait until winter, the sunset glow is still far away.
Trapped in my stubborn idea, I must let the birds who come home late know.
I can be so excellent that I deserve to cherish myself.
In the afterlife, someone will look at me and say:
"What a bamboo, shangbeizi must be an honest man.
If I can be so upright, can I be a pine tree in my next life? "
In the afterlife, if I were really a pine and bamboo tree, I would choose.
It grows beside your grave, sheltering you from the wind and rain.
I will surround you with long roots, if anyone doesn't understand.
I can only honestly say to it: after all, we used to know each other so well.