A modern poem with ten words and fifteen lines.

Author: Dai Wangshu

Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone

Wandering in the long, long

Lonely rain lane,

I hope to see

Like cloves.

A girl with a grudge.

She does.

Clove-like color,

Lilac-like fragrance,

Sad as cloves,

Mourning in the rain,

Sadness and hesitation;

She lingers in this lonely rain lane,

Hold an oil-paper umbrella

Like me,

Like me.

Walking silently,

Cold, sad, melancholy.

She approached quietly.

Get close and throw again.

Breathing eyes,

She floated by.

Like a dream,

As sad and confused as a dream.

Floating like a dream

A lilac field,

I passed this girl by;

She left quietly, left,

A crumbling fence,

Walk through this rainy path.

In the lamentation of the rain,

Remove her color,

Spread her fragrance,

Disappeared, even hers

Breathing eyes,

Lilac is melancholy.

Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone

Wandering in the long, long

Lonely rain lane,

I hope to float over.

Like cloves.

A girl with a grudge.

Out of context-Bian Zhilin

You stand on the bridge and watch the scenery.

The landscape observer is watching you upstairs.

The bright moon decorated your window,

You decorated other people's dreams.

After the rain

Author: Xi Murong

Life can also be a poem.

If you can let me move on slowly

Quietly looking forward to finding

The dusk in my arms is getting deeper and deeper.

Through the unknown mud

In the dark clouds

Finally shed tears for everyone

Missed or not missed encounters

In fact, life can always be a poem in the end.

After the rainstorm

My mind will be cleaner.

If you are willing to wait

All the floating clouds

Eventually, it will all flow into a river.

[The first model essay network www.DiYiFanWen.com arranges this article, and the copyright belongs to the original author and the original source. 〗

Shu Ting's << To Oak Tree >>

If I love you-/I will never learn to climb the Campbell flower,/I will show off myself on your high branch;

/If I love you-/Never learn from spoony birds,/Repeat monotonous songs for the shade;

/It's not just like a fountain/It brings cool comfort all year round; /Not just like a dangerous mountain peak,

/increase your height,/set off your dignity. /even sunshine/even spring rain

No, these are not enough. I must be a kapok beside you.

/Stand with you as the image of a tree. /root, clenched in the ground;

/Leaves, lingering in the clouds. Every time a gust of wind blows, we greet each other.

But no one understands us. You have your copper branches and iron stems.

/Like a knife, like a sword, like a halberd; /I have my red flowers,/like a heavy sigh,

/Like a heroic torch/We share the cold wave and lightning;

/We share fog and rainbow; /seemingly separated forever, but they are dependent for life.

/This is great love,/Loyalty is here/Love/Not only your stalwart body,

/I also love your stand,/the land under your feet.

Author: Yu Guangzhong

Works: Listening to the night in the mountains

Content:

Forever mountain night

Everything is like a dream.

What could be better than complete silence?

More resistant to listening?

No matter how long and busy the history is.

There will always be a moment.

There's no need to argue, is there?

But what about the wind? you said

Wind? That's the transit of time

Occasionally a little

A little echo

Dai Wangshu's "I Use Broken Palm"

I used my injured palm.

Explore this vast land:

This corner has been reduced to ashes,

There is only blood and mud in that corner? nbsp

This lake should be my hometown,

(In spring, the bank is full of flowers.

There is a strange smell when the tender willow branches are broken. )

I touched the coolness of seaweed and water;

The snow peaks in Changbai Mountain are freezing cold.

The water and sediment of the Yellow River slip through the fingers;

The rice fields in Jiangnan are so soft ... now there is only Artemisia scoparia;

Litchi flowers in Lingnan are lonely and withered,

There, I was immersed in the bitter water of the South China Sea without fishing boats. ...

Invisible palms swept the mountains without complaint,

Fingers stained with blood and ash, palms stained with darkness,

Only the far corner is still intact,

Warm, clear, firm and vigorous spring.

On it, I stroked it with my broken palm,

Like a lover's soft hair, a baby's milk.

I put all my strength in my palm.

Put it on, send love and all hope,

Because there is only the sun, no spring,

Will dispel the haze and bring Su Sheng,

Because it's the only place where we don't live like animals,

Die like an ant ... there, eternal China!

Shu Ting's motherland, my dear motherland.

I am your shabby old waterwheel by the river.

Tired songs that have been spun for hundreds of years;

I am a miner's lamp blackened on your forehead,

Do what you do in the tunnel of history;

I am a withered ear of rice; It is a roadbed that has been in disrepair for a long time;

This is a barge on the beach.

Draw the rope deep

Pull into your shoulder;

-the motherland!

I'm poor,

I am sad.

I am your ancestor.

Painful hope,

It's a flying sleeve.

Flowers that never fall to the ground for thousands of years;

-the motherland!

I am your brand-new ideal,

Hope to adopt. Thank you.