There is a literary person to help make a poem, and there is a literary poetry

I don't dare to compare with Ke Yan, but I think he writes about the feelings of people of his era for the prime minister, and I write about the feelings of people of my generation for the prime minister.

I believe. Text: Begonia fragrance.

I believe in the cold sorrow of the ten-mile long street.

I believe in the white sea of cascading flowers.

I believe in the never-ending rain of tears.

I also believe in the countless anonymous and touching lines of poetry.

I believe in the lofty ideal of "studying for the rise of China".

I believe in the selflessness and nobility of "not having to be self-conscious in making a revolution".

I believe in the humble spirit of "living and learning to be old".

I also believe in the firm belief that "Internachonel must be realized".

I believe in the lights of the office that greet the morning light every day.

I believe that there are one report after another.

I believe in twenty-six work calendars that are full of schedules.

I also believe that I didn't have time to write ** "Room".

I believe in the biography of the two places.

I believe in the peony begonias that fly across the ocean.

I believe in the urn that has carried two great souls.

I also believe that the wordless *** trail is long and long.

I believe that a little bit of the tunic that is worn out and repaired again and again.

I believe that the daily recipe will always be two dishes and one soup.

I believe in the mottled pillars and gray walls of the West Flower Hall.

I also believe in the quiet airport where you don't want to be greeted when traveling.

I believe in the carefully revised handwriting in 994 places on the grain statement.

I believe in the speech of the rain on the banks of the Yellow River.

I believe that the common people of Conghua have finally taken a hot spring.

I also believe in the windward wooden box in Xingtai**.

So, I believed ***.

And not just because of the enthusiastic praise of those who loved him.

And not just because his immortal name is engraved in history.

So, I believed ***.

Though his ashes have moistened all things, I have come to earth.

Although there are always falsehoods in this society, which are difficult to guard against.

So, I believed ***.

I believe in the toughness in his toughness, and the toughness in his toughness.

I believe that deep down in his heart he is tolerant, generous, loving and kind.

So, I believed ***.

A dedicated public servant, a dedicated hero.

An eternal role model, an example to the world.

So, I believed ***.

He is the backbone of the national spirit that runs through the past and the present.

The people who yearn for the light will always look up to him with their hearts and souls.

It's a lot of brain cells, not a penny, and the difficulty is not small, hehe.

Modern version: You, look at me for a while, look at the clouds for a while.

I think, you look at me far away, 62616964757a686964616fe78988e69d8331333335336437

Looking back, who did the dust meet.

A little Lingxi, who did the true love give.

A flower hoe, who was buried with tears.

A south window, Fuqin thought about whom.

A leaf of Lanzhou, who is goodbye to Yanbo.

A cherished sentence, who did the end of the world send.

After a while, who did the fish book send.

A curtain of dreams, who is read by the railing.

A night of frost and wind, snow and rain sent whom.

A street of dark incense, who did Yan Shan find.

With a sense of sorrow, who has passed away in the red dust.

A river and a bright moon, looking back at who he lost.

A glass of turbid wine, meet who is drunk.

A gloom, contemplating who to remember.

A good night, pretending to hurt someone.

With a flute, who locked the empty building.

A parting, who has lost weight.

The first order of moss, who is gone in the secluded pavilion.

A new sorrow, away from who is suffering.

A low singing, who is infatuated.

A new song, ambiguous and flirtatious.

A kind of lovesickness, to whom is the sorrow.

I am born, and I am reckless.

Who I am, who you are, and who and who you once were.

Dust to dust, dust to dust, whether we can return to the beginning.

Who promised whom, who turned his back on whom, who awaited whom in the empty cycle of reincarnation.

Who is the other side of the opposite shore thousands of years ago, and who is the front edge that will continue thousands of years later.

This is the reincarnation of who and whom, who still has how many unredeemed sins, who still has how many unfinished tears, and who still has how many sorrows to continue.

Who watches for whom becomes an eternal monument, and who condenses for whom into a thousand years of tears.

Whoever guards the sea to the mulberry field for whom, and who waits the night until the day for whom.

Who boiled the green silk into white hair for whom, and who wasted youth into fallen flowers for whom.

In the end, who is who, do you know what the answer is, it is already a serious dislocation, and don't force anyone to be whom!

Who is with whom, who abandons whom, who forgets whom, who waits, who loves whom.

Whose heart is still the same, whose heart is broken, whose heart is asleep, whose heart is difficult to keep.

Eventually, people wandered around and couldn't figure out who was who.

Whoever made someone laugh, who provoked whom, who cried, who held whom's hand, who married whom, whose tears wet someone's heart, whose eyebrows touched the corners of their eyes.

The bright moon sends acacia.

But when I drink good wine, I am also sad.

Look through the clouds to find her.

Who has mercy on me?

When to meet in a desolate place.

When to bring the wine home.

The past and the present reminisc about the past and the twilight.

A song of vicissitudes and parting bitterness.

It's a long way to go.

It turns out that courage is not a source of living water, and there will be a day when it dries up;

It turns out that being strong is not a towering wall, there is still the possibility of collapse;

It turns out that jealousy and cowardice are a snake that dormants in the heart, and at the slightest gap it sprang out, arrogantly demonstrating to conscience and goodwill;

It turned out that I was just a mortal wearing a mask, the mask was laughing, and the expression underneath was crying.

The shadow is sparse and the water is shallow, and the dark fragrance floats in the dusk of the moon.