There is no beautiful modern poetry, sad is the best

Late winter township. On the gravel-covered road.

The rubble sank into the earth.

Next to the corner of the blue brick building.

The water of a lake and the withered reeds at the water's edge.

And aspen. Unconcealed branches stretching out to the sky.

Far and near become a painting.

Crispy soil fertile fields.

The wind of the New Year blows open the half-frozen river.

Half of the waves and half of it is peaceful.

The fisherman casts his net, and he casts his net and catches the fish.

Standing on a small boat and standing on a mirror.

In the north of the river, there is my hometown.

I can't feel the wind on my face.

Wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes.

Kapok Metasequoia.

and the reeds on the banks of the river.

I walked past the paddy fields.

Along the mud ridge. The babbling of the ditch is the fresh water of the river.

I closed my eyes.

Try to spread your hands and find the direction of the wind.

Look at it just hiding in the treetops.

And ** is the South.

A blooming summer flower.

Lonely swaying outside the window.

The last tear.

Air-dried in memory of July.

Xia Feng sings a song that is fading away.

Blew away the clouds. Polished the moon.

It touched you. Slightly frowning brows and heart knots.

Quietly nostalgic. The summer sky under the camphor tree is imitating.

The sun shines between your fingers.

The sound of the piano flows quietly like water.

Look at the smiling face of the summer flower outside the window.

It is frozen into a beautiful picture by the window.

Pretend to smile and watch you go away.

The one that disappeared into thin air'Promise.

Just let me. Commemorate alone.

Whoever sings for whom.

Who composes the music of the future for whom.

Once forgotten. The sorrow behind her clear smile.

Learn to watch. How many thoughts are hidden with the dust.

The blooming autumn flowers are scattered.

Summer flowers usher in the melting of new life.

The cool breeze wants to erase the feeling of early summer.

Blown away the flowers. Flew off the leaves.

But they can't take it away. Frozen July's thoughts.

Please don't say goodbye to me.

It was the ice string that shed tears in my heart.

Please remember July with July.

That was the only complex when Xia Hua was defeated.

I wanted to travel this way.

You can forget your beautiful eyes.

can be cut. The slightest wisp of affection.

and the sorrow that the autumn wind can't blow.

Who would have thought that it would end up.

The mountains and rivers are still the same. Love is still there.

Your figure. Just behind and then in front.

Love, don't be a prisoner.

Not for your comfort.

It inhibits the freedom of others.

Not getting is always the best.

It's too much, and how can you take it.

Less is sorrow and more is worry.

The river flows in autumn.

A faint mist. Faint rain.

Faint clouds swim leisurely.

The four seasons can be arranged in an extremely bleak manner.

If the sun wills.

Life can be arranged to be extremely lonely.

If love willing.

I can never do it again.

If you want.

Except for the thoughts of you.

Dear friends.

However. I will immediately wither my thoughts.

If you want.

Dig up every seed.

Cut every river.

Let the barrenness dry up and stretch to infinity.

This life and this life. Apart from.

In the night wet with tears.

If you want.