Like your text, can you give me an original modern poem?

Legend. If you agree.

I would like to go back to your childhood.

Walk with you through the dark valley.

and the ruined village.

If you agree.

I would like to walk into your youth.

Accompany you through the days of confusion.

and indescribable sorrow.

If you agree.

I'd like to fly over to your middle age.

Help you carry the heavy burden.

Look at your haggard appearance.

If you agree.

I would like to appear in your old age.

Shelter you from the wind and rain.

The sunset that accompanies you.

But I only have one.

Therefore, it is only possible to watch you silently.

For countless years.

Growing older.

Original) Glimmer: Hazy morning, there is a faint light, I know there, called the place of youth. I planted Nianhua into the land, vainly hoping to harvest the fragrance, but Nianhua fled away, saying loudly that it was me who betrayed the rising sun.

Even if you shout desperately and exhaust your strength, you still can't get it back, and you ...... forgiveIt's a dream! I'm still on the road, just setting off, only, the tiny light, and the sound of youth.

Walking by the river, watching the flowing water go to the east, the white light in my eyes, doubting my distance.

The white sail is dotted, whose hand is raised;

In the blue sky, a line of geese flew away.

1 How long will it take for you to meet.

Don't ask for eternal love.

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I like it. It's like every day when the sun sets, looking forward to another dawn and the happiness of the empty air.

I never express it.

Like this stream, it never tells the quicksand where it's going.

I like it. I like to sit alone on the beach and enjoy the night sky. Meteor.

Look at the mark it left behind in the sky.

That may be happiness, happiness.

I'm chasing the celebration draft, but I never fight for it.

I'm afraid that this night sky doesn't belong to me.

I like it. I like the arrival of dragonflies on the calm river.

Love the sparkling river under the scorching sun.

Maybe in **, and only there.

Have the happiness I'm looking for!

I like it. Just silently standing behind the back.

You never look back.

I think! But he was blind and still stood in place.

Maybe it's just what I like.

But he couldn't move Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai.

I like it. Like a person writing his own poems.

Maybe it's not a poem, it's just a story to the heart.

That's how I like it.

But you don't know the darkness that this night brings.

This poem looks forward to happiness.

The number of people in the garden gradually decreased.

The river is full of white mist and gray-white moonlight.

A mixture of darkness and blur.

Everything in front of me is changing.

The voice fell silent.

But she and I were still standing by the river.

A small boat rocked over the mountain hall.

The canopy and the people rocking the boat were faint.

Covered with a layer of green frost moonlight.

The boats on the river are lit one by one.

Always flickering brightly and darkly.

They were still shaking in the water.

The little girl rocking the boat held the radial.

Stir up the tide of the dark.

Looking at the moon and singing faintly.

But she and I were still standing by the river.

The lights in the garden were all on.

The one on her head.

In our shadows.

It's a long way up the grass.

The yellow leaves on the road walk slowly.

They all came to her feet and discussed getting together.

Motionless. I figured what I should say to her.

Say what to her.

What she said, how should I answer her?

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew some of her hair on her face.

I want to sweep her sideburns for her.

Last year, the year before and the year before yesterday.

I don't remember much.

Next year, the year after tomorrow, and even today.

But I'll never forget.

What to remember. The garden, the moon.

The little girl rocking the boat.

I like it. It's like every day when the sun sets, looking forward to the happiness of another dawn.

I never express it.

Like this stream, it never tells the quicksand where it's going.

I like it. Loved sitting alone on the beach and watching the shooting stars in the night sky.

Look at the mark it left behind in the sky.

That may be happiness, happiness.

I pursue, but I never fight.

I'm afraid that this night sky doesn't belong to me.

I like it. I like the arrival of dragonflies on the calm river.

Love the sparkling river under the scorching sun.

Maybe in **, and only there.

Have the happiness I'm looking for!

I like it. Just silently standing behind the back.

You never look back.

I think! But he still stood still.

Maybe it's just what I like.

But he couldn't move Liang Shanbo and Zhu Ying.

I like it. Like a person writing his own poems.

Maybe it's not a poem, it's just a story to the heart.

I like it as before.

But you don't know the darkness that this night brings.

This poem looks forward to happiness.

Broken Chapter" - Bian Zhilin.

You stand on the bridge and look at the scenery, the bridge is destroyed.

The people watching the view are watching you from upstairs.

The bright moon decorates your windows, and you decorate other people's dreams.

"Broken Chapter" is a work of repentance on behalf of the "Crescent School" poet Bian Zhilin, written in October 1935. The language of the work is concise and subtle, according to the author Ziyun Chunzheng, the poem was originally in a long poem, but only these four lines of the whole poem he was satisfied with, so he drew out an independent chapter, from which the title is derived. The poem is one of the most widely read masterpieces in the history of Chinese poetry in the 20th century.

The second half of the chapter. The mud across the river is connected to your beam, and the spring in the courtyard is picked into your cup.

Overseas luxury goods come to your chest, and I want to study the history of transportation.

Last night, I gave a light mow, and today I received two smiles.

Give a mirror flower, collect a round of water moon, and I will write down the running account for you.

Attached is a poem created by posterity.

You stand on the bridge and look at the view, and the people watching the view are looking at you from upstairs.

The bright moon decorates your windows, and you decorate other people's dreams.

Happy people praise others for being happy, and happy people try to feel happy.

Happiness is to describe others, and happiness belongs to oneself.

Zhu Ziqing "Drizzle"-

Modern poetry drizzle.

In the east wind, passing over my face, the drizzle of stars and stars is the fluff of spring.

Spring article.

Hey? Who woke up the grass?

It turned out that the spring girl was tickling the grass!

Who's playing with the fish?

It turned out that the spring girl was playing with the fish.

Whenever spring comes, the spring girl is with us.

Play and grow together......

Spring is our happiest time.

Miss Spring, would you please stay?

Spend a golden childhood with us! It's beautiful, it's meaningful.

"Diary" (Haizi).

Sister, I'm in Delingha tonight, and the night is shrouded.

Sister, I only have the Gobi tonight.

At the end of the prairie, I was empty-handed.

Can't hold a teardrop when grieving.

Sister, I'm in Delingha tonight.

This is a desolate city in the rain.

Except for those who pass by and live.

Delingha ......Tonight.

This is the only, last, lyrical.

This is the only, last, steppe.

I give the stone back to the stone.

Let the victory win.

Tonight the barley belongs only to him.

Everything is growing.

Tonight I only have the beautiful Gobi Desert empty.

Sister, I don't care about humans tonight, I only think about you.

Tomb Bed (Gu Cheng).

I know that eternal death is coming, and I am not sad.

In the pine forest lies my wishes.

There is a sea below, and it looks like a pool from afar.

A little bit with me is the afternoon sun.

Man's time is over, and man's life is long.

I should rest in between.

People who walked by said that the branches were low.

People who walked by said that the branches were growing.

Both of these poems are representative works of the poet, and the emotions are restored very purely.

Poetry this guy.

Wen Sun Dajun.

Poetry: This guy has a very strange temper.

Not so easy to make friends.

You don't know when he's going to be.

Look at you and like you.

Thousands of words in the brain.

Spin around. Some shouted, some shouted.

Some cry and some laugh.

Some are elegant and some are cheesy.

I said to them.

I've been earning well lately.

I have the money to entertain you.

They were invited by me.

But the formation seems to be saying.

You look like a great poet.

That summer.

That summer. Youth is broken.

Everything is no longer so ordinary.

The sea is no longer an upside-down sky.

The clouds are no longer so sweet.

All the arrogance of the young maniac.

Flying paper kites.

Black and white keyboard.

Plucked strings.

A rickety forehead swing.

The stars tell us the bitterness of loneliness.

That summer. Youth is broken.

Everything becomes the language of those who are not willing to be lonely.

and the voice of the breeze.

Whose tomorrow is it playing?

That summer. Youth is broken.

We're not that simple anymore.

The smiling faces of yesteryear.

Comes to mind.

Happiness is actually not far from us.

This is what I saw by chance, and the meaning is closer to life, so I like it.

Bright moonlight in front of the bed.

It is suspected to be frost on the ground.

Look up at the bright moon.

Bow your head and think of your hometown.

I'm a handsome guy, and I have joy every day. Joy is always there, and you are in a sweet dream.

I like that I like to listen to the sound of the wind.

She always ran after me.

Tell me stories from afar.

I like to listen to the sound of the rain.

She always crept close to me.

Have a long talk with me.

I like to listen to the sound of falling leaves.

She's always dancing.

Offer the last dance of your life.

I love listening to the sound of flowers blooming.

She is always smiling.

Send the warmest sunshine of spring.

I love listening to the sounds of nature.

You listen to the brook singing.

The lark was singing.

The cricket was singing.

The waves were singing.

Let me be in touch with this symphony of nature.

Sing a hymn to life.