Help me write a poem about the centennial celebration of Xiaolong.

There are many poems about dragons. This paper collects some poems describing dragons, which are listed as follows:

"Looking to the east of my hometown, I don't want to cry" comes from the first sentence or two of Cen Can's ancient poem "Meet the Jingshi" in the Tang Dynasty. The whole poem is as follows:

The distance from the east home is very long, and the tears are wet and the sleeves are still flowing.

I'll meet you immediately, without paper and pen. Please tell my family that I'm safe.

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Looking east at my hometown, the road is long and Xiu Yuan is awkward; Tears on my face wet my sleeve, but I still can't wipe it off. I met you on horseback on the way, but I wanted to write a letter without paper and pen. I can only ask you to take a message and go home to report peace.

"Dragons and tigers go around trees, and it is also a collapse when they enter the clouds" comes from the first and second sentences of the ancient poem "Crossing the Mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor" written by Xu Hun, a poet in the Tang Dynasty. The full text is as follows:

Dragons are surrounded by trees, and when they enter the clouds, they also collapse.

In a piece of green hills and autumn grass, passers-by only worship the Han Mausoleum.

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Layers of trees go straight into the sky, and the mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor stands like a dragon. Even if you are above, in the end, you will still "collapse" in people's hearts. Their graves also stand on the green hills and are also covered with autumn grass. Passers-by only pay homage to the tomb of Emperor Wen of Han Dynasty, as if bowing to him.

"Clouds in the gorge cover dragons and tigers, and Jiang Qingri swims with giants" comes from the third and fourth sentences of the ancient poem "The Highest Building in Baidicheng" by the poet Du Fu in the Tang Dynasty. The full text of his ancient poems is as follows:

The tip of the city is quiet and sad. It is an independent and ethereal flying building.

Clouds cover the gorge, dragons and tigers lie down, and Jiang Qingri swims with cats.

The west branch of Fusang is against the broken stone, and the weak water flows with the east shadow.

Those who sigh the world with sticks and quinoa burst back into white hair with blood and tears.

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Steep mountain cities, rugged paths, and flags inserted at the head of the city are all secretly worried. In such a place, a towering tall building stands alone, looming. Clouds and haze block the continuous canyons, and the mountains are like dragons and tigers lying still; The sun shines on the clear river, and the waves are like floating giants.