I hope you can provide some poems about the wind

2 Wind The wind blows the long sleeves and dances in the sky.

For many years, the sleeves have been blown clear.

The wind, blowing will warm into dreams.

Thousands of miles, come and go without a trace.

The wind, the boy blows into a pulsatilla.

People are old, and they are not shocked by the humiliation.

The wind, for me, blows down the stars in the sky.

The spring rain is silent.

The wind roared, the waves puffed up their sails, and the sea came alive under the scorching sun.

He slapped the sand, he struck the reef, and the earth-shattering roar was the voice of her furious heart.

No one has ever seen the wind, let alone you and me.

But when the red flag waved, we knew the wind was dancing.

No one has ever seen the wind, let alone you and me.

But when the hair blows, we know the wind is coming to play.

No one has ever seen the wind, let alone you and me.

But when the red scarf floated up, we knew the wind was coming.

No one has ever seen the wind, let alone you and me.

But when the plastic bags fly, we know the wind is dancing.

No one has ever seen the wind, let alone you and me.

But when the smoke drifted away, we knew the wind was coming.

The poems about the wind are as follows:

1. The sound of wind and rain comes at night, and how many flowers fall.

Meng Haoran: "Spring Dawn").

2. The wind is strong and the fish bow is singing, and it will be sold to hunt Weicheng.

Wang Wei: "Watching the Hunt").

3. The forest is dark and the grass is frightened, and the general draws the bow at night.

Lu Lun: "Zhao Xiao Plugged Song").

4. Wildfires are inexhaustible, and the spring breeze blows and grows.

Bai Juyi: "Farewell to the Ancient Grass").

5. Chaimen heard the dog barking, and returned to the people on a snowy night.

The Liu family is accompanied by Changqing: "The Master of Furong Mountain in the Snow").

6. Dive into the night with the wind, moisturizing things silently.

Du Fu: "Joyful Rain on a Spring Night").

7. The city is supplemented by three Qin, and the wind and smoke look at Wujin.

Wang Bo: "Send Du Shaofu to Shuzhou").

8. If you want to go back by the wind, you are afraid of Qionglou Yuyu, and the height is too cold.

Su Shi: "Water Tune Song Head? When is the bright moon?).

Verse 1 about the windListen to your chanting, O wind.

I want to dance hand in hand with you.

But you're a**.

Oh, you're in the field.

I saw you helping the peasants beat the heat.

Whew, whew.

Listen to your chanting, O wind.

I want to hear your singing.

But you're a**.

Oh, in the moment when the little girl's hair flutters.

I see you stroking the little girl's hair.

Whew, whew.

Listen to your chanting, O wind.

I want to be your soulmate.

But you're a**.

Oh, the moment the flowers bloom with a smile.

I see you talking to the flowers.

Sand ants rustle, rustle.

Listen to your chanting, O wind.

I want to sing with you.

But you're a**.

Oh, when the spring thunder plays a beautiful melody.

I see you're playing for the spring thunder.

Rustle, rustle.

Listen to your chanting, O wind.

I want to fly with you.

But you're a**.

Oh, you're in mid-air.

I saw one playing with the dead leaves.

Rustle, rustle.

Listen to your chanting, O wind.

I want to look at the world with you.

But where are you?

Oh, at the moment when the meteor streaks across the horizon.

I see you're racing against a shooting star.

Whew, whew.

Listen to your chanting, O wind.

I want to pour out my boredom to you.

But where are you?

Oh, you're on the horizon.

I see you chasing angels.

Rustle, rustle.

Listen to your chanting, O wind.

I want to compose a moving piece with you.

But where are you?

Oh, you're on the streets.

I see you blowing away the clouds in the hearts of losers.

Rustle, rustle.

Listen to your chanting, O wind.

I want to chase my dreams with you.

But where are you?

Oh, you're on a star-studded stage.

I see you witnessing people who have dreams, and the moment they realize their dreams ......

Where did you come from and where did you go?

Won't you stop for me?

Count me in begging you. I came from the invisible and returned to the invisible.

I will depart, fate.

It's useless to beg. The gust of wind was born in this sea.

This gust of wind died on the other side.

The joy is not endless. Grief.

Xu Zhimo "I don't know which direction the wind blows".

Untie the three autumn leaves, and can bloom February flowers. —Li Qiao, "Wind".

The spring breeze and the south bank of the Green River, when will the bright moon shine on me. Wang Anshi's "Docking Boats in Guazhou".

The clothes want to wet the apricot blossom rain, and the wind blows the willow wind. — Shi Zhinan, "Quatrains".

I don't know who cut out the thin leaves, and the spring breeze in February is like scissors. —He Zhizhang, "Yongliu".

The sound of wind and rain comes at night, and the flowers fall to know how much. Meng Haoran: "Spring Dawn").

Wildfires burn inexhaustibly, and spring breezes blow and regenerate. Bai Juyi: "Farewell to the Ancient Grass").

The wind of the Gobi I was happily born in the northwest.

I grew up with the wind of the Gobi.

The sound of the wind whistling by.

Let the big ** regret.

And it became.

The best lullaby for babies.

The tune has remained unchanged for thousands of years.

Whether urgent, slow, high or low.

The wind of the Gobi is like that of the men in the northwest.

Rugged and heroic. The voice roared and woke up.

Aspen and grass that sleep like wives and children for a winter.

I have pleaded: the wind of the Gobi.

It's like a grain of sand.

Send me anywhere I can go.

The wind is silent but sound.

A pious heart touched it.

It really took me to a distant place.

A night of leapfrogging.

Huang is like a lifetime away.

The eyes are full of green mountains and green waters.

I always thought that there was no wind in the south.

The northwest is the home of the wind.

However, the winds from the south.

Gentle, delicate and empathetic.

It was caressed.

A soul that has been burned.

No more pain ever felt there.

Make people forget the way home.

I was lucky enough to be born in the Northwest.

Desolation and silence grew up with me.

I never felt lonely or lonely.

Because the wind combs my hair.

Never bear to refuse.

Let it be lightly combed and ripped wildly.

Comb it out to the satisfaction of the hairstyle.

I had a date with the wind.

But it was sandwiched into the book when it was not ready.

Treasured in the heart that has been wandering for many years.

When I returned, I suddenly remembered.

Open the page and it has slipped away without a trace.

No regrets, no loss.

The wind of the Gobi.

The wind is in**?

You don't know, I don't know.

You see, the treetops swayed gently, and the wind had passed by.

The wind is in**?

You don't know, I don't know.

You see, the lake is rippling, and the wind has passed through it.