The school has a poetry recitation competition called "I love reading, reading helps me grow up". I would like to ask for a longer modern poem. It requires 8 minutes of reading. Please?

"Return to you the water of thousands of rivers to comfort me for a quiet autumn"

I am a drop of thousands of tears, the water left by Nuwa when she created human beings. I don’t envy the longevity of the nine-night sky, it’s because of the many reincarnations in the human world. My heart has condensed since Eying, and the Xiaoxiang bamboo is covered with drops, mottled. In the sad season, the flute and harp are engraved for parting, and every time the setting sun accompanies singing, the wind weeps and the rain stops, there is always me sobbing, expressing all my sorrows and grievances. I rolled away from the jade ring and looked at the screen window at dusk, the figure of my beloved gradually disappearing. Su Jiao had no intention of being cruel in the world, she forced her fragrance to disappear and her jade died, leaving her faint soul behind and turned into a dream chaser. I am alone on the pillow every night, the brocade is cold every night, the wind carves the vicissitudes of life, and my face fades, all traces of lovesickness!

I am the willows of Baqiao gathering smoke, and the orioles are singing, and the flowers are leisurely separated by the flying swallows. Even if thousands of strands stir up the east wind, how can the broken branches be filled with loneliness? The gatherings and separations of human affairs are as clear as the waves. Who has no regrets in this life? The cable connects the two hearts. Don't sleep in the cold tomorrow morning.

I am the fog rising in the morning from Wushan, sending red beans from the sky to the south. With countless flirtatious glances, his intention to return is as old as before, waiting alone, spring and autumn, the golden lotus staggering on the mountain path, deep in the green forest, the clear stream is angry, mocking people without shame. I am the dew of the grass in Jinling. After missing the love, I feel sad and sad. Pingting and Xiaoxiang, thousands of dendrobiums and thousands of lamps, don’t lose your youth and hair. No need to stay, happiness is short, don’t be miserable for a long time. Return you thousands of rivers and comfort me in a quiet autumn.

I am the ice of silver and ice, far away from each other, but we never meet each other so close. The magpie bridge is difficult to erect but too easy to dismantle. The golden sky is beautiful and the sky is beautiful. With delicate hands weaving a mandarin duck play, I looked up and thought hard on the other side, how many times did it succeed? Morning Cowboy, there are many scholars in the world. I am a broken wall sending dreams to frost, mourning the sky and singing in sorrow. Cuifeng pulls the curtain softly and hurts the fingers. It feels floating and ginger. You are yin and I am yang. The bridge is full of crazy thoughts, and it also combines with Meng Po Tang. Now and then, the fate of half a lifetime is gone, and I think about it for three lifetimes, what is longer than the road?

I am a paper umbrella that was abandoned and turned into a blue sky. The broken bridge is now cracked with willow silk. There is no wind or rain in the West Lake. The lotus has a heart, making ripples and scolding the fish, making the Su embankment interesting. This time, there is no pure vase for Purdue, no more crazy immortal lovers. I am the rain of three changes. I have no ties, no mail, and no plan. I am a drunken pot in a brothel. The sun and the moon are long. How many times do I wake up and how many times do I wander! The future is far away and I don’t know where it will be. I will search even harder and count myself. I'm used to watching the cold moon wash the stone embankment, and the willows and jade trees next door. Go back, the soul is coming. I am Lanzhi who went to hate the water. My love has not yet faded, but my heart will always be with me. The west wind cries at night but still has no regrets. The copper in the high hall shines on the broken green silk. The frost in the sky reflects the remaining phoenix. On the bank of Suzhou River, the boat returns to the evening clouds. Laughing thousands of times a hundred times, who remembers whom? I am the butterfly spring on the terrace, which has been drying for thousands of years. Spring is coming, the sun is dancing, the summer solstice is sleeping in the shade; the autumn is high and the moon is accompanying, the cold weather is hiding in the sky, how is it like the human world, the dust is covered with wind and the heart is covered, and the dream is hard to come true! Bathing in love, the rainbow hangs, and the laughing Weaver Girl is bored and thinks of the world.

I am Shen Mengjiang, the tenth lady, spreading the fragrance all over the river, talking little in the east, ecstatic with joy, dreaming in an instant, all in vain! I am the withered Mochou Lake, with strings of crystal beads and no one brushing them, causing biwing people to stay happily beside my pillow. I am boundless in both directions and lonely in both places. The doves singing by the side of laughter: Auntie, Auntie... and even the owl cried: How cruel, how hateful! I am the Luoyang River in Fengdu. I am wearing heavy silk clothes. My eyebrows are covered with snow. The moon is reflected in the gentle breeze. The lonely Chang'e still covers her temples.

I am prosperous and prosperous, with thousands of romances, where am I now? Looking at the mountains and mountains, I urge you to let the ancient Buddha of Qingdeng leave behind the mortal world and force your heart to stop. I am a penguin in the net, feeling sad for summer lotuses, miserable autumn leaves, and sad at dusk like the vastness of the river and the sky. The bitterness knocks at the door of your heart, the lamp in the east window is not white yet and is extinguished, I sigh at the long pavilion, I once imagined that my heart will be tied to you, and my lovesickness falls in the blue sky. In the sound of broken bells, your wife picked me up... just like the tears of your heart for thousands of years, which will never come back, and your heart will fade away. Love flies with dreams.

"This life is like the passing years"

Hurry, hurry. In the blink of an eye, from the warm spring with singing and dancing birds to the lush midsummer, from the clear autumn with the grass all over the sky to the cold winter with the wind and snow, a year has passed like this. Sad about the passing of time, but also sympathetic to the common people.

The ordinary days are like hourglasses flowing in the hustle and bustle or silent time. Leave a person, reject everything and isolate yourself from the outside world, and choose a quiet life alone. In this state, I stopped writing about my love for half a year.

I don't care about what I have done in the past six months, and whether the traces and thoughts of the dying struggle will be clear until they are clear. It seems that everything will end like this.

Good memories are reflections of happy times. I think I am the one who has been in pain for a long time before finally getting a glimpse of happiness. The stagnant happy time is frozen in the depths of memory. Even if it is empty, it has become a passing shadow. The feeling that remains in the heart is like the sunset sky in this season, blurred and beautiful.

I don’t have much impression of the minutiae of life. I am someone who does not have the courage and perseverance to record my life. Lost in this forest of my own, lingering in the gap between reality and ideals, maintaining a thin and ethereal emotion that I yearn for in my heart. Nostalgia and longing often wrap around me, causing insomnia to come over and over again.

The floating clouds in the sky, piercing the bare branches in the sky, and the dusk that lasts until the sunset are reflected in a pool of stagnant water in the corner of the city where the snow has faded. Silence. I have always wanted to take advantage of the snow to give winter new clothes and go out to collect some scenery, so that I can appreciate them without remembering them. Thinking about it carefully, this is just a whim, and the sudden snow is not as shocking as imagined, not to mention that now I can't even find the shadow of snow when I go out, so I simply give up. Many times, thoughts like this are convinced by oneself in the blink of an eye and then disillusioned. It really seemed like a rush.

When meeting an old friend, there is no joy of reunion after separation. Instead, there is a slight pain and a feeling of loss hidden in the calmness. What has always confused me these days is not love, and I no longer have the strength to manage emotions, even if I occasionally feel empty or lonely. The cave of time is decaying my thoughts. Even though I am reserved and noble, I still feel more and more that I am about to fall into vulgarity. No matter which way the wind blows, I am afraid that I will be unable to hold up the sky and fall down in a hurry. He could not foresee the tragedy and sorrow that awaited him.

The prosperity and neon lights buried in my heart have long been in ruins. It was empty and guarded by the setting sun. Deep love, attachment, fleeting years, the past, rush, rush, everything is just like this.