The poetry of snow, not ancient poetry, prose style, before 21 o clock today, hurried

Friend, I'm doing a task, if it helps you, please give me some encouragement, thank you!

Tearful fireworks.

Snow, no matter how beautiful it is, will melt one day. Fireworks, no matter how beautiful they may be, will disappear. What will never disappear is only the slightly sad moment in my memory.

On the noisy street corner, I hide in the shadows out of your sight, you can't see everything about me, and I just wait. The fireworks are gorgeous, and I just watched quietly in a corner, quietly watching the beauty disappearing in the sky, quietly looking at the invisible rainbow. The gentleness of the moonlight, for me, is just tears.

One of the snow, when walking into the village.

Even the back of my hand is full of loneliness.

Inner blankness.

Only a few cries were laid.

The past meanders with the village.

Like the sound and color of the flames.

Talk about a conversation about warmth.

Leave no trace.

I walked through it alone.

This familiar, but nameless village.

The second is the clouds in the sky before the fall.

It is moving snow.

Constantly change postures.

It's like the cotton that my mother turned over.

There were other mothers, and they were together.

Bury the old village in a kind of softness.

When the mother came out.

This snow fell all over her hairline.

Third, I don't say white.

It's like a piece of paper.

Footsteps tell where to go.

I just say transparency.

If the snow does not melt.

It will stand upside down on the eaves or branches of trees.

It's a reflection of my childhood.

The mother's amniotic fluid is also transparent.

Now, I have reached the age when my mother gave birth to me.

After all these years, I still feel it.

That layer of watery warmth.

Fourth, I counted from the beginning.

Haven't counted to six yet.

In the palm of his hand, there was only one tear left.

The snow is hexagonal.

Your heart is also multi-angled.

I could never count it all.

Those things that are not counted.

I can only be in these tears.

"The First Month" of Cambridge's poem "Departure to You".

This is where I was born.

White roses poured down.

All the plants fly into white birds.

The chant of their souls.

and my weeping day and night.

Higher than the blue sky. The road is white and quiet.

Sit alone between the water and the water.

It's as if everything is already in order.

These creatures who sing in their wombs.

Linger through eternal tenderness.

Three feet into the ground. Return from the Kingdom of Heaven.

What could be louder than our milk name.

At this moment, I am in the whitest form.

Stand in front of you.

Melt is the whole language.

Look for it over and over again.

One copy

Snow, when walking into the village.

Even the back of my hand is full of loneliness.

Inner blankness.

Only a few cries were laid.

The past meanders with the village.

Like the sound and color of the flames.

Talk about a conversation about warmth.

Leave no trace.

I walked through it alone.

This familiar, but nameless village.

The second is the clouds in the sky before the fall.

It is moving snow.

Constantly change postures.

It's like the cotton that my mother turned over.

There were other mothers, and they were together.

Bury the old village in a kind of softness.

When the mother came out.

This snow fell all over her hairline.

Third, I don't say white.

It's like a piece of paper.

Footsteps tell where to go.

I just say transparency.

If the snow does not melt.

It will stand upside down on the eaves or branches of trees.

It's a reflection of my childhood.

The mother's amniotic fluid is also transparent.

Now, I have reached the age when my mother gave birth to me.

After all these years, I still feel it.

That layer of watery warmth.

Fourth, I counted from the beginning.

Haven't counted to six yet.

In the palm of his hand, there was only one tear left.

The snow is hexagonal.

Your heart is also multi-angled.

I could never count it all.

Those things that are not counted.

I can only be in these tears.

Look for it over and over again.

Looking at the clouds, the twilight drum leads to frost.

The whirlwind dances side by side, and there is no injustice.

Without paving the paper, let it be affectionate.

I am free from the world, and I have been praised through the ages.

Essay "Park Operator" See laughter.

I have no regrets in my youth.

Loving you should be innocent.

Snow is like a white rose, I love the beauty of snowflakes.

The flowers will be haggard for a while.

Beauty is only for a moment.

Snow, the dark print, reflects the humble blackness.

The snow, dazzling and brilliant, made a noise of silence.

Snow, witnessing chaste love, desolate humble love.

Speechless, lonely, empty, cold, don't go to the window and lean on the railing.

Outside the bar, a river is white, but I ask when spring will come.

The moon Wutong does not guard the empty city, and the slender catkins fly silently.

Who sighs, the vicissitudes of time.

It's just that the snowflakes bloom and wither in July.

The long wheel of the wind and snow turned pale the only memorial.

The snow outside the plug, the north wind howling, the goose feathers turned, and the river froze the ice and locked the ship.

The southeast and northwest are white, and the front and back are chaotic.

It is difficult to move without paint, and he looks up and slaps his face with frost.

If you want to say that the scenery outside the plug is good, it is difficult to resist the cold bones.

The winter snow and spring snow are not small, and the snow whistles are heard everywhere.

The sound of wind and snow at night, how much snow falls.

The creation is not good, please forgive me.

When I went out, there was snow underground, and there was snow on the trees.

There was snow everywhere. Snow snow snow snow ah

I've written a poem before, and if I feel good, I'll take it and use it.

Embracing the blue bird, why is it too late to return.

Even Wuyun spit out, and the jade into the water is fat.

The snow is not late, and the wind cuts the bell and drums.

When you are together, there is no separation for a long time.

"Snowy Night".

The burrow is silent, the mountains and rivers are silent, and the cold window dream has been lost for three shifts.

The steps are still flying, and they are scattered in front of the door and turned into mud.

Riverbank of Red Water Original.

I wrote two songs, one ancient and one modern, for you to see.

Looking at the vast dawn and cold wind and cold, the snow is flying for thousands of months. Independence does not feel that the sky is white, and the fox fur is cool and green silk dyeing.

Holding a piece of snow, my fingertips are slightly cool, and the wind rolls the snowflakes to send a faint plum fragrance, I am independent in a vast expanse, dyed white silk, and cold heart.

White dreams. In the dream, it seems that there is snow flying over the window lattice, the rustling sound, who is calling?

Dark and confused, someone is standing in the heart of the field, the lingering figure, who is confiding?

The cold winter is as cold as an ice toad, the Moon Palace Chang'e caress her forehead, the lonely watchman, who cares?

When the snow outside turns into the emulsion of grass, when the ice in front of the house turns into the dew of the earth, I would like to turn into a blue, and suffer from the wind, frost and rain, just for the sincere love that once became.

The past becomes a memory, and the snow urges people to walk. (Original).

The snow is muddy, and the wind is rushing and blowing.

One after another, covering the traces of people.

Cute little snowflake, copy you are that.

It is white and flawless. Every bai winter, you will come quietly and give your child a zhi

There was a surprise. People like you so much, are you really the elf that Grandpa Winter gave us humans? Yes!

Beautiful little snowflakes I want to sing your praises, I want to praise you, do you know how much I like you! You often disappear in the light of the sun, and you know how sad I am! Yes!

Beautiful and sacred little snowflakes, you listen to the laughter of children every moment in winter! Let's grow up happily in a snowy world! I like you, little snowflake!

I'm sorry for the less, but it's definitely original, don't doubt me! ）

"Snowy Night".

Snow, one by one, fell all over the treetops;

It covered the ground and covered the mountain forest. Expert.

The sky was full, and snowflakes took over everything. Genus.

The street lamps in the distance, revealing a yellow glow, navigate the messengers of winter.

Under the lamp, people in a hurry, who will think to admire.

The scene of flying snow in the sky, feeling the mood of flying in the air;

Hold up an umbrella and cover everything.

Snowflakes dominate the night sky, but they can't hide the hustle and bustle of the city;

Cars come and go, lights everywhere.

Snow doesn't care about the prosperity of the world, falling to every corner;

Silently, leaving a sense of silence.

Poetry flowing incense, Xianghuang fairy original poems...

Heavy snowfall.

From time to time, there was a tick on the roof, and there was no dripping thing to be found.

Water stains, looking around, a vertical line on the glass.

The branches bowed to the crowd again, without the joy of reaping the fruit, and reached out to brush their hair, a trace of coolness invaded between their fingers.

The road turned from white to gray, and the gap between the ditch and the ravine was built, and the flowers made of mud were planted one by one at the hem of the trousers.

Water droplets drip from the roofs of cars, strings of water slide off the roofs, and the scenery with icicles can be seen everywhere, little by little disappearing into mud.

Streamer transfiguration bai

Snow is suspended around.

Du reached out and picked a piece of zhi

Watch as the snowflakes melt in your hands.

I love the snow and I love his version.

of stubbornness. Even if it is a strong wind, even if it is involuntarily drifting snow, it still has his edges and corners.

What do I see when I melt little by little?

A smile of relief?

The serenity of Nirvana?

Vaguely, there is still a ...... of what the future will look like

1. When the six flying flowers enter the house, sit and watch the green bamboo become Qiongzhi. - Tang Dynasty: Gao Biao's "To the Snow".

Vernacular translation:

I was sitting in front of the window as the snowflakes fluttered and flew into the window, watching the green bamboo branches covered with white jade due to the snow.

2. The sky is about to be twilight, the snow is dancing, half plum blossoms and half floating catkins. - Yuan Dynasty: Ma Zhiyuan's "Shouyang Song, Jiangtian Twilight Snow".

Vernacular translation:

It was getting late, and suddenly it snowed heavily, and the snowflakes were like blooming plum blossoms and flying catkins.

3. The grass is withered, and the snow is light. - Tang Dynasty: Wang Wei, "Watching the Hunt".

Vernacular translation:

The autumn grass is withered and yellow, and the eagle eyes are sharper; The snow melts, and the galloping horses' hooves are more like the wind chasing the leaves.

4. I know that the snow is heavy at night, and I hear the sound of breaking bamboo. - Tang Dynasty: Bai Juyi's "Night Snow".

Vernacular translation:

When it was late at night, I knew that the snow was falling heavily, because from time to time I could hear the sound of snow crushing bamboo branches.

5. The end of the south is beautiful, and the snow floats in the clouds. ——Tang Dynasty Zu Yong's "Looking at the Remnant Snow in the South".

Vernacular translation:

The northern side of Mt. Jungnam is beautiful, and the snow on the mountain seems to be connected to the clouds in the sky.

6. The snowflakes of Yanshan are as big as a seat, and the pieces are blown down Xuanyuan Terrace. - Tang Dynasty: Li Bai's "North Wind Travel".

Vernacular translation:

The snowflakes of Yanshan are big, like bamboo mats, and they are scattered in pieces and float on the Xuanyuan platform.

7. The north wind swept the white grass and folded, and the snow flew in August. - Tang Dynasty: Cen Shen "Bai Xue Ge Sends the Military Judge Back to Beijing".

Vernacular translation:

The north wind swept the land and blew the white grass, and the sky in the north of the country fell heavily in August.

1, "Bai Xue Ge Sends the Military Judge to Return to Beijing" [Tang] Cen Shen.

The north wind swept the white grass and folded, and the snow flew in August.

Suddenly, like a night of spring breeze, thousands of trees and pear blossoms bloom.

Scattered into the bead curtain wet curtain, the fox fur is not warm and thin.

The general's horns and bows are uncontrollable, and they are all cold in iron clothes.

The sea is dry and icy, and the gloomy clouds are bleak and condensed.

The Chinese army returned with wine and drinks, Huqin pipa and Qiang flute.

The snow is falling in the twilight, and the wind and red flags are not overturned.

Luntai East Gate sent Jun to go, and when he went, the snow was full of Tianshan Road.

The mountain loop turns around, and the snow leaves a place for horses.

2, "The Master of Furong Mountain" [Tang] Liu Changqing.

The mountains are far away at dusk, and the white houses are poor in the cold weather. Chaimen heard the dog barking, and returned to the people on a snowy night.

3, "Xuemei" [Song] Lu Meipo.

Mei Xue did not refuse to descend in spring, and the pen fee of the Sao Ren Pavilion was commented.

The plum and snow are three points white, but the snow loses the plum and a piece of fragrance.

4, "Sending Lu Yuanwai" [Tang] Xue Tao.

On a snowy night in front of Yulei Mountain, Jinguan City parted with his soul.

If the son of Xinling asked, he felt the old favor to Yimen.

5, "Watching the Hunt" [Tang] Wang Wei.

The wind is strong and the bow is roaring, and the general hunts Weicheng. The grass is withered, and the snow is light.

Ignore Xinfeng City and return to the fine willow camp. Looking back at the place where the eagle was shot, thousands of miles of twilight clouds were flat.

"Looking at the Aftersnow in the South".

Zu Yong ends up in the south of the Yin Ridge show, and the snow floats in the clouds.

The forest shows that the darkness is dark, and the twilight in the city is cold.

Spring snow] Liu Fangping flew snow with spring breeze, wandering around the air.

Jun looks like a flower, biased to the east of Los Angeles.

Jiang Xue" Liu Zongyuan.

Thousands of mountains and birds fly away, and thousands of people disappear;

Lonely boat, fishing alone in the cold river and snow.

Quatrain (Tang Dufu).

Two yellow orioles are singing green willows, and a line of egrets is in the sky.

The window contains a thousand autumn snow in Xiling, and the door is berthed in the Dongwu Wanli ship.

Xuemei (two songs).

Lu Meipo Meixue did not refuse to fall in spring, and the pen fee of the Sao Ren Pavilion was commented.

The plum and snow are three points white, but the snow loses the plum and a piece of fragrance.

There is plum without snow and no spirit, and there is snow without plum vulgarity.

The sunset poems are full of snow and snow, and the plum is very spring.