Traditional Culture Encyclopedia - Photography and portraiture - Seek the classic poems written by vincent fang, and try not to have lyrics (the most classic! )
Seek the classic poems written by vincent fang, and try not to have lyrics (the most classic! )
winding on the clothes rack
simple
distance before the first kiss
spoiled person
extremely delicate love
hopeless thirty-one words
an ambiguous state
Virgo's secret
a koala and a eucalyptus tree
the feeling of being eaten
. Apple milk
childhood sweethearts
poetry room
subconscious violation
The reason why nightclubs in the east
moderately curly sadness
fire hydrants try to create a sense of pictures at night
Poetry has always been spurned
windy style
change of heart
personality
marriage initiation < Fairy tales that are very untrue ... when the vows slowly fall ...
We write down happiness with music ... redraw it with words ... and then listen to it at the right time ...
So all the complications in life ... all the emotional concerns ... can slowly melt away ...
"Goose yellow first love afternoon"
The whole urn of homework is covered. In the afternoon, I exposed those crooked words in the threshing ground
I ironed a crumpled candy paper and secretly remembered the appearance of someone adding salt
The smell of sawdust planed by the pencil sharpener was hooking my finger with the smell of air
It seemed as if I had verbally agreed on something to grow up, but time had been trying to whitewash my teeth
Those air-dried childish and flat bodies couldn't squeeze my heart
Memories were very different. Thinking about the next page of Mandarin exam
Those past events that can be easily turned over on the next page
"Splash-ink Landscape"
The seal-cut city was signed in the rainy season
The muddy landscape outside Qingshi City was a volley of tears
You are the one who left blank in my splash-ink painting
"Youth is like wine". There are seven colors that can span the colorful past.
Egrets are elegantly painted with ink on distant hills.
This fragile rainy season is beating the past with light-paced drums.
The damp in the house is storing memories that are fermenting day by day.
I poured out the yellow past that is related to you.
Those youthful and beautiful fragrance like wine are everywhere.
Torii
outside the window is like a feeling accustomed to sitting posture
a memory that can't fly
the green of tender bamboo next to a stone lantern
looks like light and beautiful tears
a pool of dry past without light and shadow
koi fish in front of the fish scale board outside the house
breathes in colorful Japanese
The yearning for swimming is desperately.
I've set sail on the farthest drifting boat
I wring out the past with moonlight one by one
Memories are like extremely slow and insoluble sugar
Maybe I haven't had time to dry in the ebb tide
Maybe I shouldn't have gone ashore at all in my life
After years of screening, I can still leave it intact on the beach
I must have some special shape
For example, I can prepare it after folding it with a newspaper. The imagination of a ship that is expanding day by day
"Read a poem to you"
The eaves after the rain are really suitable for wind chimes
You see the sound of the wind just sprouting from the window is very light
And I decided to travel in the cat's eyes
So all the mysteries retreated to the scenery
Only things that are hidden skillfully enough can grow into dandelions
Then there is no burden. > I was afraid of waking up the part of me that only dared to like you in my dreams
so I recited a poem to you.
The opening of the poetry collection was very careful and light.
It was very light and careful, just like a cat and a wind chime. I read you a poem.
"Home"
The pure world in the bottom of the photo. You rode a bike and drove it.
You promised. Ruan's sadness is only now known.
I really want to know the whole disappearing age in the photo.
I'm still guessing about the smell of air.
The moss in the corner is always green too fast, and I slowly get up.
I make a cup of hot coffee and drink some stubborn thoughts.
We don't learn to comfort when we cry until the end.
Growing up makes people feel tired but there is no way to retreat.
Ah. After growing up, the gap between dreams and reality is
e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e Funny struggle
Rain is falling on the bamboo fence in my hometown, and the south wind is blowing gently
Say goodbye to the prosperity, unload the luggage and let's go home
The old wall clock on the wall is a certain time and space in the past, and I said you will understand
Life that has disappeared is impossible to start over. I said you are sad
Does the sewing machine in the living room make any noise again? I said you are sad
Going back to your childhood street is uneasy and mixed with heartbeat. I said you smile
The moonlight makes a spike-colored sound, and I wail about the pale environment
The stabbing pain in the frame is not only the coniferous forest
But also my sadness of being deprived of oxygen at high altitude
An arrogant vulture hovers out of my eyes that you raised
I'm trying to carefully describe the thing that you fed with a brush
The vulture continues to fly low and bypass the hills of the nose. How did I finish this work about willingness?
I kept quiet all the way back to this crowded exhibition hall.
No one noticed that I was in the lower right corner of the border picture of the forest.
My screaming love nailed to the wall by you
was a scenery that was laughed at.
"Hanging"
The broken waves were scattered with sticky hair tangled with corpse blood < Growing up, turning off the satellite online, South Asia
Pretending nothing happened. I'm listening to the clay doll
"Destiny"
The smell of smoke is like an iron wire. At dusk
My familiarity with you is slowly ground into a sharp blade
The youth I used to cut open the cross section began to look for the year when I met you
In the outermost ring, I saw you closely
It's your earnest
"compromise"
The aging wilderness has repeatedly missed the rainy season
So I gave up the spotless flying
Never missed the withering of the fallen leaves around me and the oncoming snow
In this world where beauty turns white after all
Zen
The meditation has opened my heart to how to cross the river. Embarrassment
I love thirteen strokes, but I haven't dried out of the window, and the old pine is stabbed everywhere.
The monk pushes the temple gate but turns around the world of mortals. The tea in the room is already cold.
Tears are like misty rain. It's unbearable to say that it's euphemistic to sigh the vernacular.
I'm unhappy that you are happier than before after breaking up.
Is this a Zen that directly points to people's hearts
Simplicity
Your simplicity is a world of its Being
innocent with high purity flowing in the air
The wind in the afternoon is as easy to fall asleep as a pillow
Your simplicity becomes a world of its own
Love becomes a butterfly, and lovers are full of endless consideration for food
Tenderness is full of wilderness and thoughts are tightly surrounded like a forest
In the season of vowing sowing, you will be together for life in a blink of an eye, and you will be strong and fruitful
Your simplicity becomes a world of your own
. I have seen through several people
some memory layers in the frontal lobe
some memory layers in the frontal lobe
The aquatic plants in the oasis are extremely fertile and lush
tarkan's fierce blade
And then I can't remember what is
the lonely city in Mobei that can't be outlined with a pen
The pure white paper is describing the bloody expedition
I carefully explained this article word by word with a pen.
Looking at the cross section of brain cells, there are more questions
This article has finally begun to have some atmosphere of the Western Han Dynasty
After the roots of my hometown were dug up and the crops were burned
I can't remember what the camel bells in Dunhuang sounded like
Monks lost their pious business trips and were sacrificed along the way
The desk lamp in this room began to look for the god of faith
My disordered handwriting was finally broken into the city gate < The armor of blood is aimed at by many arrows.
You tied a rope on the beam and said that reincarnation has to wait.
So what do you call this life, my dear?
After reading under the lamp, Jin Yong consciously became poetic.
Wash and drain the moonlight, scoop up a spoonful of ugly tea.
An orange calligraphy falls between heaven and earth.
This ink color is like Zen. However, killing or not killing
heroes is just a few chapters.
Ordinary people
between poetry and non-poetry, even smoke from kitchen chimneys
childhood friends
A lizard who keeps alert at any time goes in and out of the snake market with disguised skin color
But ants who buy by the pound with a scale are seen at a glance.
The sun is so bright. Elegant molting
I brought a shady hat with me, but I unconsciously added some accent.
After all, I can't get rid of the skin of my hometown. Who said that hiding in a snake's nest with four feet is redundant?
I mistakenly thought that the lizard in the bed was like myself.
I carefully opened the rubble and the lizard disappeared, and the mood
seemed to be like his immature wow many years ago. What a pity
Then put on the snake's coat and go back to the reptile market
And his immature wow is a pity that I was able to walk with my feet.
Rhyme game
Everyone who knows me knows a secret.
The story is usually preceded by a foreshadowing.
Usually, the emotions brewed by my own assumptions are sorted out first.
Then two Chinese characters
Tears or Flower Season < are written in a melodramatic style. Word spacing
In fact, the blank spaces between them are all deliberate
to please the reading order of the eyes
to make the ending look forceful as far as possible
Of course, the middle of the story still needs to create a few sighs or parting
so much elaborate design
just to make the story look
self-righteous. P > these rhyming words
are all piled up just to make the last sentence
the last sentence impeccably love you
till death do us part
you left me at an angle parallel to the horizon
I carefully handed you to me
a dry sadness
carefully planted in me. Dyed loneliness
irrigates lovingly until it flourishes and thickens
blooms and finally bears fruit
A pair of veteran cocoons touch
the outline of me who has loved you for more than 4 years under the tree
The fruit falls down at my side with a smile
and proudly tells the soil that
the so-called love in the world
means me < > I remember that it was drizzling in the sky that day
I was looking for you who had already left here
and I gently remembered that you cried and said that you were going to leave
They laughed and said that these three lines of words were simply dirty words
Grammatically too plain and plain, with no cohesion
Literally lacking in literary attainments
Like the love tone between middle school students < Abandoning
simply looks down on
, but in the country of poetry, it is doomed to be completely excluded
Alas, some things are redundant to explain
They will know that these three lines are the only memory I am going to take to my grave
There is a cat's tenderness in my eyes
She occasionally waved a cat's fist
when she was particularly light. P > At this moment, any smile can ripen at any time and quickly.
So I gave a whole plate of fish to splurge.
The tenderness with a little sting woke up the clue that I love her.
That day, he ordered a past tense.
I always felt that her poems were all words about the port background.
This is just like my salty shadow and some overdue worries.
This metaphor is unexpected. Copy
air-dried vows and write them in the lyrics in a place that is not easy to corrupt
We sing loudly to each other that we will eventually love once
Ring is an adjective here
Ring is an adjective here to describe a kind of Hermon's external behavior
Oath is classified as a proper noun and a specific ceremony in a certain time and space
Romance should not be explained as much as possible, otherwise, it will be embarrassing that this
hero tomb
will eventually mate. The dynasty facing the army was the Tang Dynasty.
The embroidered shoes in this wine shop made Jiangshan so euphemistic.
The slim sunset with Chu waist still hanging outside the eaves of the beam
has sunk into the dyehouse in the Iraqi boudoir.
The waving of the wine flag is wild, but the beauty looks back for a flash.
This is an inn where the knife falls, but a piece of rice paper is left in the fish geese.
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