A poem with 50 words describing spring.

In that cold winter, spring has been bred. Look at the red plums with proud snow in the wind. Every petal says that spring is full of joy, longing and hope. When rivers thaw, ice and snow melt, everything recovers, and the land is full of green, we really enter the spring. The songs in spring are so sweet, the smiling faces on the flowers in spring are so charming, the air in spring is so fresh, white clouds and red clouds dawn from the sea, plums and willows in spring. I watched an oriole fly away in the warm wind, Haishu, and a piece of green water grass reflected by the sun: sunrise at sea. Li Heliu in the wild in spring: Liu Mei crosses Jiang Lai, and spring scenery in the south of the Yangtze River. Shu Qi: The warm breath of spring. Turn green apple wave: turn green apple grass in water. The meaning of four sentences is: rosy clouds rise to the sea with the rising sun, plum blossoms and green willows take the other side of the spring river, yellow birds sing in warm spring, and sunshine makes apples green. Don Du Shen Yan's "Looking at Lucheng in Early Spring in Jinling" has given birth to spring in that cold winter. Look at the red plum in the snow. Every petal says that spring is full of joy, longing and hope. When rivers thaw, ice and snow melt, everything recovers, and the land is full of green, we really enter the spring. The songs in spring are so sweet, the smiling faces in spring are so charming and the spring is so empty. The spirit is so fresh this autumn, we have matured together in summer, and it is a long and short autumn, with no lasting dawn like Casablanca, blooming in the middle. The beige summer day is trying to wither and say goodbye like a meteor. After the rainy summer, I can't find a decent piece of paper to print my own "Seventeen, Long Summer, Will it pass?" Don't be afraid, in the past summer and the next autumn, you can moisten your mouth with a touch of lemon, and you don't need too much sweetness to tighten your lips. This autumn, we have matured together. Youth is a short song. I don't know who wrote such a beautiful word, and I don't know who wrote a touching melody for this word. I sing softly, but I can't tell you your sadness anyway. You are imprisoned in the corner of the world, watching your face fade away, watching the prosperity of the world fall into the dust, mixing a glass of red wine for yourself, adding some tenderness and honey, and then slowly savoring youth. A glass of wine will practice your hurried steps towards spring. When the first dead leaf falls to the window, when the first wild goose flies over the blue sky, and when the first Jin Ju withers in the wind, my heart has already hung on you silently. When the first snowflake melts in my hands, when the first bird whispers and plays in the branches, my heart has already felt the mark that you will return. I know that the clouds can't cover the golden morning light, and the swaying wind chimes bring the morning news. I know that snow can't stop the pace of spring, and the blooming plum blossoms bring you fragrance. In spring, you are a green bud on the branch, you are full of vitality under the east wind, you are a blooming flower in my dream, and you are an eternal poem in my heart.