What power is it?

Let that thin body

After a hundred years of sea breeze and waves.

Strong and tall

Never rot

Why on a firm face?

Worried eyes.

It's getting clearer and clearer

Strong men carry lime and opium.

Mixed with excited trumpets.

In the soaring fog

Slowly melt into immortality in the history books.

There is no naval warfare museum.

The yellow paper that says Fengtian Shipping.

A sallow cheek stained with tears.

Maybe it won't be the sorrow of history.

We have no reason not to hate it.

Well-dressed, well-fed and groggy people

Ignore the strong man's stump and broken arm

And a head dripping with blood

Endure to tell the heroes that their hearts are broken and their chests are broken.

Blood and tears in southern Xinjiang

Bury this pit with the poisonous flame of the great powers to turn the tide.

Heroic cause

Strangled under a belt with dirty blood on it

Only in the throat of wine and meat.

Oh! Smoke pool

I want you to be a wound that will never heal.

Let future generations remember.

Thermopylae

Who played the flute of farewell?

The pulp in Lanzhou gently opened the calm water.

On the platform

But Qin E's sad eyes.

Grass by the roadside

With Jiang Lang's tears.

Blue starry sky in the south

Blurred under flashing street lights and neon lights

A roaring whistle.

Brought a cheerful smile to the lawn.

The noise in my ear is still there.

The faint fragrance in the breath is still there.

I still have a few strands of hair in my hand.

The hazy eyes in my mind are still there.

separately

It's a full moon on a stone bench.

And the figure swimming with fish in the pool.

I can't afford to wave my sleeves.

Can't say goodbye to the clouds on the horizon.

Chen branch's luggage

Full of sadness of morning breeze and waning moon.

Largo

Can't find a harmonious song.

Wind, raise your soft and shiny hair.

Tears overflow the corner of my eyes.

Sprinkle it on my already nervous heart.

I can't see your wet face clearly.

Or fog rising from the mountains

Let's move. Let's go.

The sadness of parting is like weeds in spring.

The farther away, the more.

Approaching Xiaoxiang

Because the flexor is wearing it.

On the head of a wreath woven by Gui Lan Jiao Hui.

I once conceived a beautiful love story.

Terribly beautiful, easy to repair.

My eyes are sore and worried.

Because thousands of homeless poets

Rendering of the feeling of overlooking.

Ignoring all the favors and humiliations

Bring wine to the wind

In a dream

You are my hometown.

Not in orange island.

Pointing to mountains and rivers, impassioned words

Just want to be a boat.

Drift in slowly

A continuous picture composed of small water and ringing water.

Or a small carp in Dongting Lake.

or

I can be a trickle of children at the foot of Yuelu Mountain.

today

I'm approaching you.

I dare not expect

You can be a singing poet.

I just want to see the orange sunset on the water.

kowtow

And banish my heart to the lake.

There will be no more dryness and desolation

Rain in deep city

A girl holding mussel beads in the south of China.

You can also change your tenderness and warmth.

Put on thin clothes

Shake vigorously in the sky

roll about

Dark clouds suddenly rose from their foreheads.

His lips broke the first thunder.

Tears with a faint smell of sea breeze.

Scattered all over the sky

Put the forests of distant mountains

And nearby buildings

Be shrouded in fog.

Maybe it's thunder, lightning and wind.

Finally, the fisherman woke up.

Return flight

Bring a full tank of fish and shrimp.

Then use wet clothes

Gently wipe the tears off the girl's cheeks.

A blush appeared on the horizon.

Daimei and Yunbin in the distant mountains.

Especially bright and sacred.

The nose exhaled a fresh and pleasant breath.

Deep city stretches itself again.

Charming eyes sparkle.

Water drops on leaves

Oh! Rain in deep city

It's a beautiful fairy tale.