(There are millions of reasons for me to catch up
You still don't stop, look ahead ......
Far away, I can't walk in the barren loneliness
Only in admiration, the wind and the moon, whispered and sung
Your dreams one by one, far away from my ideals
Your ideals are like wolves in the wilderness at night
I can't stand your loneliness
And I can't have the power of your run
From now on, my disguise is just a self-healing
Autumn is coming, wrap up and hide your heart and your skin
Don't hurt your heart with your thin coat
Spring is coming.
The time to go will not pity your sorrows
Nor will it give you strength in your sleep.)
The Years
By Neihuang Laonan
The look of childhood, grown up
Cannot be touched, like the father's goodness
Searching for their own childhood, and can't return to their hometown
Kindness is like being blindfolded on the net, and I'm on the outside of the net ......
The childhood is covered by the net, and I am on the outside of the net. p>
Childhood was caught in the net and could not be stretched
I searched back and forth on the outside of the net, gasping for breath
Looking for my shadow, far away in a trance
My heart, to the net of my childhood to put a line
He was from the inside, through the net of the years to me deep strangulation trip
How far I went, and again, constantly put the line
Modern Poetry of the Years 2
Father
is a majestic mountain
Unsmiling face
is a silent mountain, verdant years
like hard teeth, chewing the bones of the years with stubbornness
Father
is a heavy appellation
A slightly hunched body
Mountainous greatness, shoulders
Holding up the blue sky
Dry verses
Can't be depicted
And now, my father's furrowed face
Is like a deep book
A candle that burns the years
Trembling under the torment of Parkinson's and giving out
The faint light of life
Modern Poetry of the Years3Scattered along the way
Displaced along the way
Can't get rid of the love in my heart
Wish that the fallen leaves were tangled up in the shadows of the people who are not seen
All along the way, there are winds and rains
All along the way, there are obstacles
Can't break the long-cherished wish to come back to the house
Wish that the parting of the world will be repeated in tears
I wish that the separation of life and death will be repeated.
The gentle rain that falls on my heart
Moisturizes my heart with infinite love
Thinking is worrying and stopping is guarding
The prosperity is over
I only complain that a single swallow flies in front of the city
Taking my thoughts to the sky
Until the string disappears
Loss is sorrowful and sadness is a thought
The broken flowers and the broken willows
I am alone with the autumn weather
I am not alone.
I'm alone in the autumn wind
It makes me sad
Tears all the way
Sweat all the way
I've spent the years of my youth with no regrets
But love and hate are cut on both sides
Waiting for a miracle
Waiting for a miracle
The sadness of my journey
And the blame of the journey
The years of my life
Modern Poetry 4In the month of May
But my flowers
have withered too soon
Looking at the flowers, kissing the lilacs
My heart is in pain
Those raging in the wind, but more sadness
The flowers are gone, and the rain and the smoke fall
No. I'm not sure if I can tell you what I'm going through
Life is a time of fireworks, a time of years, a time to wait and see what happens.
A silly man child, how to save you?
The rain at dusk, how much sadness has been promised, how much despair has been carried
A blurred vision, the eyes do not know where to go, and how to pick the stars to point the moon
The past years, time? The time and space?
The past is a time that can't be repaired
The past is a time that can't be repaired. Space?
And why do you need to, and why do you have to suffer heart death heaven and earth
--Previously
Cottonwood has been disabled, the incense died early, the flowers blossomed in colorful spring, has long flowed, the heart, inexplicably become dry. This year, the season, the light of day early ruthless, or, this is the Brahma Zeus, barren should always be sentimental children. The last ray of sunset halo. Gradually, don't go to the western mountains, into an arc, disappeared in thousands of miles away from the mountains. Rotating in the sky clouds, has long been scarlet night sky. Drunken thoughts, along with the wind, but also danced up the body, scattered the end of the world, the sky. The moon, has long emerged, hanging in the treetops, flashing light. Spring, gone, and now, the starry night sky, and is the world of summer.
The sky, why you always hazy figure in the dark night, is to tell the existence of the moon.
Water, why the night you are still flowing through the river gorge, is to tell the light of the passage of it.
And what about me, the human child of the three thousand worlds, the dust of Zeus, what should I interpret, what should I flicker?
Moonlight, has long been full of desk, in front of the cup of hot water, hidden some warmth, melting with the cold light, trying to pull back the drifting thoughts. The wind ah, why you rampage in the dark night. The air those lonely breath, sandwiched between the cool, cold night, just like this, frozen that rare warmth, bullying an early broken heart. The vicissitudes of life, why do you have to remember, and why do you have to heart sadness sobbing blood. The world of tenderness, has long been in the memory of precipitation, do you know?
What a silly person, how can I save you, put the nine ghosts, bath to the fire, to wait for you to nirvana.
Tears have long confused the eyes, five hundred years? The people in the time of nothingness, and why they are happy, why they are happy. Clueless me, ultimately do not understand. That why, that why, time is always so inadvertent, broken youth, broken face. The first time I saw it, it was a very good thing that it was a good thing. When the years have washed away the lead, more frost in the flow of years, people, and why is it sobbing, why is it sad.
Leaning on the windowpane, staring blankly at the moon shadow, serene moon, mottled tree shadows, yellowed lamps, and sometimes a few insects, and a sleepless night, the stars Lang Yunzhu, bright night sky. The sky is like water, with the shadow swaying, hovering a touch of light injury leisurely
How silly people ah, raise the hand is spring, fall hand is autumn, know, you wrong how many years, you know not? Those past memories have long been left in the dust of the earth with the wind, with the flow of years, how many seasons of flowers, do you know?
You, that is, heaven and earth, why is the heart of the death of heaven and earth, worth it? The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
Years of urgency, the wind set the falling flowers, the season of flowers, and open in the where ...... The flow of some, perhaps, would have been moist on both sides of the river, clamped with the aroma of it, and you have no regrets ......
Gradually understand that the water, moon, mirror and flowers are in the virtual image, birds and fish are just fiction. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one, and you'll be able to do that.
Five hundred years?
Three lifetimes of love? The joke is, the dust of . I, long ago, do not believe in the next life, more dare not say the next life.
Gradually understand, Tianfang is just a legend, Shenglou is just a dream. You should understand it, it should be enlightened.
Well, the spread of the green vine should not be melancholy, it is climbing it, it is waving the heart of the voice of the language.
Let's go, with the heart language, let's go, toward the moon.
He went, towards the sky, step by step. Until the road to the end of the earth and the sky, the sea and the rocks, disappeared in the round after round of the bucket, leaving an empty inch after inch footprints, in the eight wasteland in the nine states for a long time.
Well, he went, toward the moon, step by step. Raising the arc of his mouth, he disappeared in the season after season of the years and years.
What will you save, the heart it, a prematurely broken heart, the person, those broken patches, you still put together not? Still covet not?
No, no. This is the Brahma, and why bother? The first thing I want to do is to get rid of all the bad things that are happening in the world.
Cang Sang is only the years, the old but only the child's truth, the death of only the pure.
Too heavy, lost or forgotten, this should not love to, and why die to.
The first thing I learned was that the earth is moving. The first thing I've learned is that I'm not the only one who's been in the business for a long time. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one, and you'll be able to do that. The first thing you need to do is to get a good deal of money to pay for it. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
Jokes, jokes, I am heaven and earth, and why the heart sad heaven and earth.
The sky, more light. Is it? Well, a heart of paper cranes.
The sky flow of light, and what should stay, what should be promised.
Cold heart, extinguished love, flashing light, dazzling Hua
Maybe, maybe put
Dust, all things are born from it, all perish in this
What about me?
The dust of Zeus, what kind of a dunghuang should it be?
The modern poem of "The Years" 5
The years are like water, taking away the past sorrows and joys, leaving only the present lightness.
Today's blandness comes from the naivety and uneasiness of the past.
Because of the naivety of the world full of malice;
Because of the uneasiness, to bear too much sadness alone.
I'm not sure if I've seen it all before, but I'm sure I've understood it;
I've gotten used to it, and I'm sure I've gotten used to it.
I had thought that all the sadness would accumulate in my heart and would become heavier and heavier.
How could it be that the flow of water washed away the grief, washed away the tears, and cleaned the wounds.
When the pain gradually light, tears gradually less, sadness gradually fade, people also calm.
When the sky is clear, enjoy the warmth of the sun and the breeze;
When the rain is pouring down, listen to the sound of the rain ticking.
In the springtime, the heart blooms like a flower;
In the autumn season, the heart is as quiet as a falling leaf.
If you are looking for a way out of the mountains, you will find a way out of the woods.
If you are looking for a way out of the mountains, you will find a way out of the woods.
If you are looking for a way out of the woods, you will find a way out of the woods.
The year took away the obsession and sadness, only to leave the years calm.
All of the past is a part of life, and if you walk through it, you have to put it down.
The first thing you need to do is to remember what you've done and forget what you've forgotten.
When the years are over, say goodbye to the sadness and move on to the future.
I said goodbye to my parents and left home that year,
I stepped onto the train in a foreign land and went out to work,
I carried the bedding and clothes on my back,
I was brave enough to go to the end of the world.
That day, I came to a strange city and entered the bustle,
I lived in a low-slung shack,
I climbed up the high scaffolding,
I spoke the native language,
I worked hard to get the sweat off my back.
It's not easy to go out,
I have to bite my teeth even if I'm tired and bitter,
The working day is very hard,
I'm not afraid of any difficulties,
For the sake of the girl in my heart,
For the sake of my old parents,
For the sake of today's life,
For the sake of the life of the tomorrow's life,
For the sake of the life of the change,
I'm not afraid of any difficulties.
I have to bear all the pains and troubles!
Let the wind and the rain blow.
I carry the words of my father and mother in my hometown on my back,
I'm brave to go to the world,
I speak the language of my hometown,
I sweat hard,
It's not easy for me to go out,
I have to grit my teeth no matter how hard or how tiring it is.
The days of working are very hard,
The difficulties are not afraid,
For the sake of the girl in my heart, which is her,
For the sake of the old father and mother,
For the sake of today's life is dignified,
For the sake of tomorrow's life has a change.
I carry the words of my parents,
I bravely go to the end of the world,
I speak the language of my hometown,
I sweat desperately.
All the original sins are not original sins, they are the horizontal display of the heart's greed, and they are the evil consequences of the desire to expand.
I put it down, my mind is at peace. You take it, and can never be at peace.
Time, not days, is the rush of running water, is the slightest of floating clouds.
Not because of your gain or loss of face, not because of my hatred and sudden stop.
Sewing a crack, a needle without a line, a line without a needle, are bound to be futile.
Keep your castle, keep your stubbornness, keep the woes of your offspring.
The heart is no longer the heart, the dream is no longer a dream, only a wisp of white hair, look back at the green silk.
The years are finally far away, as meeting their own death, as living shame of the soul.
The south of the rut, and how the sins of infinite expansion? The south of time, the north of the years.
The itinerary is nearly half, why the virtual aging pale? The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of a long journey, and it was a long journey.
The sun is still shining in the east; the moon is still blooming in the west window.
You see, that a golden; you hear, that a charming. That one peach, that one plum.
That one and one life, that one and one thoughts, that one and one feelings.
Still looking for the years, looking for the time, looking for the wind and rain intertwined, curling up.
Dust, like smoke; past events, like a dream. A volume of poetry of ancient rhyme, an ink stone deposition.
The wind, blowing through the enjoined stream, all the way to the east, all the way waving red, orange, green and blue, to this not back.
My years, I promise you a ride.
Let the unintentional glance, fixed into each other's memory forever landscape.
If you remember, you will be able to see the hand of the boat.
Is there still a lot of reluctance in your heart?
My years, I promise you to accompany a ride.
The light sweeps over the skirt, stranded in the fall of the corner of the eyebrow.
I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm going to be able to do it.
It's the most romantic thing in my life to meet you.
My years, I promise you a ride.
The rain falls for you to float a pool of lotus fragrance, rain clear for you to surplus a meter of sunshine.
The Tang wind and Song rain of the flat and narrow, is my reserved for your elegance.
Along the white rhyme, I promise you a world of peace.
My years, promise you a ride.
Research a pool of light ink, pen is a long day, and the payment is a long time.
The lips and teeth of the dialogue, I use the words engraved forever.
The love affair is charming in the flow of years, a paper lotus language, a piece of paper.
My years, promise you to accompany a ride.
The time is not old, we do not disperse.
Let the meticulous mind, written full of love.
Silent love, silent like.
My years, promise you a ride.
With my not leaving, to fulfill your not abandon.
Then, in a note of mountains and water in the time to live into each other's likeness.
Live, love, and stay together!
Modern Poetry of "Years" 9
Life, always when alone and quiet
Thinking too much
The memory of yesterday is always more and more
The life of tomorrow is always less and less
/
The reason why we are often hurt by a person
is because we personally
Your heart has already acquiesced to his actions
/
No matter how hard life has been
you always care about the warmth in your life
A person can have a dead body
but a person's memories never die
The memories of a person can never die.
The more beautiful the memories, the easier it is to cry
There are sadnesses and joys in everyone's soul that can't be carried by words
I've been avoiding those places in my memory that are too deep
Maybe it's out of a kind of instinctive self-protection
Because of the sad music that one listens to alone
I wrote these sad words.
After all, the lightness of life can't bear the weight of too much sadness
/
If one day
I turn my head to look back at a story I once told
My eyes no longer shed tears of pain for the people in the story
Is it possible that the two hearts have become strangers to one another due to the time that has elapsed since I was born
/
I'm afraid of all the things that can happen to a person when they're not in love.
Our hearts have wandered all our lives between this shore and the other
Modern Poetry of the Years 10Soft Years
Searching for some starlight, we wander and wander alone.
In which the ghostly little warp, my heart is so calm.
Wandering around the quiet village, listening to the frogs alone.
The long night is so peaceful.
I look up at the moon,
The moon is a favorite of mine, and its light is as bright as jade.
The past is hard to see and embarrassed, the tenderness is hard to refine and hard to see!
The first time I saw this, it was a very long time ago, and it was a very long time ago, and it was a very long time ago.
The author of Blood Night - Summer of Dreams anthology
Separation ~
Separation, for two people who love each other , is painful. But for two people who hate each other, parting is happy.
Perhaps the parting is a good beginning, perhaps a bad end. The good beginning is for people who hate each other, and the bad end is for people who love each other.