Ask for a modern poem, hurry!! Here comes the poet

Facing the sea, spring flowers are blooming.

From tomorrow onwards, be a happy person.

Feed the horses, chop wood, and travel the world.

From tomorrow, care about food and vegetables.

I have a house facing the sea and spring is blooming.

From tomorrow onwards, we will communicate with each and every one of our loved ones.

Tell them about my happiness.

The blissful lightning told me.

I'm going to tell everybody.

Give every river and every mountain a warm name.

Stranger, I bless you too.

May you have a bright future.

May you have a lover and eventually become married.

May you be blessed on earth.

I just want to face the sea and bloom in spring.

Xi Murong. Life.

In fact, it can also be a poem.

If you can let me move slowly.

Quietly hope. Search.

With a deepening twilight.

After the quagmire of the unknowable.

In the dark clouds.

Finally shed tears.

For all. Missed or not missed encounters.

Life. In fact, it can always be a poem in the end.

After the pouring rain.

My heart will be purified.

If you're willing to wait.

All the clouds that float erratically.

In the end. Eventually, they will all merge into a river.

I disappear like a breeze, but you sing like the moon;

I use the brush in my hand to copy your ten thousand styles, but there is always a lack of poetry and deep rhyme, I am like a meteor crossing, but can not touch your intimate lovesickness, and you have fallen on the branch, I have to catch the moon into a dream. Acacia

With the murmuring of the stream, with the fragrance of the new green of the branches, with the whispers of swallows, compose the music for March.

With the fluffy green grass by the river, the pigeon whistle lingering in the clear sky, and the silent light rain, compose the music for March.

The song of March dances joyfully, the song of March shines, the song of March frolicks, from the treetops, from the bird's nest, from the clouds, dripping--

The song of March. Dripping on the wings of butterflies, dripping on fragrant flowers, dripping in twinkling eyes, spring is more beautiful, beauty is in--

The song of March.

(Cold window) is far away, but the hard work is not over!

Bai Xue told me that winter is only temporary, and spring is not far away.

The time was too rushed to write.

Make do with one.

A gust of east wind blew through, suddenly, the old face, with great affection, and then look back, at this moment, with all the heart to witness:

Even if you are reincarnated, you are still my only choice!

Flowers" persistently, until the last moment of life, still blooming the most beautiful flowers.

that graceful and falling figure;

One piece after another, connecting the poet's inspiration!

"Goose" looks back again, looks back again, needless to say, it is all lined up with the word "person" and the word "one", unwilling to sigh, this is missing, but also leaving home!

The night moon hid herself in the clouds, and the wind cooled the night.

A few yellow leaves swirl, ending the flying wishes.

The shadow, which had been stretched so long, almost melted into her psalms.

Waiting, autumn, red leaves ......

I wrote it myself, but it was a group.