The Complete Works of Modern Poetry about Four Seasons

1. Modern poems describing the four seasons. The Woods in the city have turned green. The humble life of ants and flying insects in my forest came under the soil with spring. I heard the sound of earthworms crawling and knocked down the closed door of the soil with their soft heads. On the grass in the forest, I saw a group of goats waving their long beards and bleating a black goat, which shocked my youth and soul. Walking towards me leisurely, there are happy tears on my face. Pushing open the door of spring, I hear birds chirping in the city. A few spring birds are afraid to enter the city, but they are cheering outside the school gate. They are as simple as farmers in rural areas, which gives me a sense of closeness. They are my friends, and they are like relatives I met by chance. They are looking for unknown bugs and making friendly sounds to their peers outside school. I fell in love with the sound of birds. In the contention of birds, I pushed open the door of spring. This spring, this spring, my heart is in a mess. Sometimes I think of some tombstones, and sometimes I think of my childhood. This spring, my heart is in a mess. My poem was written in spring. My dedication poems are leaves and crowns in spring. What else can I do this spring? Who else can I embrace spring and time with? The rain passed through my chest. A voice dripped from a very high place, like a shawl of Rapunzel, and like a black waterfall, grasping the time tightly, thus becoming. For a dizzy elf in the boundless rain, I can't tell who is the real irresistible desire. Raindrops are flying in the air and slowly floating in the air. The accumulated strength seeped into my broad chest quietly from the simple clouds, so the waves in my chest stirred ripples and beat on the emotional shore reef. Waves of breath and drops of rain nourish each other, and drops of rain go deep into my heart without cover. Mix with my thoughts, then wash everything through the narrow space in my heart, and a ray of sunshine flies into my sunny sky through time. On February 23rd, 2004, "Looking at a Snow in Spring" boarded the train bound for spring with the sharp sword of the season, relentlessly opened the restless bud, let the frozen little hand reach out and chase a snow in spring with the banner of hunting, as long as one foot stepped on the equator of spring. Snow in the field is very precious. The dialogue between spring and snow flows freely in six directions. In fact, spring has nothing to do with a snow, but a sudden cold in late spring. Hold on to everyone's love and look up at the sky. The contact between heaven and earth is intense, purely along the slope of the season. Head on is waiting for the last snow and treetops outside the window. The mist sprayed by the branches hung low and sighed, dripping in the yearning for spring. A bud quietly arched out of the frozen soil and tapped on the door of the earth. Free-roaming sparrows disappeared into the cracked ice trunk, enjoying love. Light kites in the suburbs, sailing all the way to the territory of spring. The road is still muddy. Occasionally, pedestrians turn up their collars to keep out the cold, and the sun shines into the spring gate. -5 "Go for an outing" On the weekend, I went to a hill in the suburbs and met a kite to let my son fly. The joy of hugging him for a winter inspired me to fly a floating leaf from a distance. You come and I will lie down next to my wife and kiss the wet Achnatherum splendens under me. I've been fidgeting all afternoon. I really want to take out my son's homework in his schoolbag and help him sweep it. On March 9, 2004, "Lenovo" an old buffalo was eating a building. Then the lawn called "Cleisthenes" like a shepherd boy, and the cows raised their hooves and sprayed beads to wake up the ears of spring by the river. Next to it are wild young crops in spring and thick leaves on the ridge of the field. Imagine, not long ago, it was the same old buffalo muttering to promote the progress of the season. An empty philosopher, holding hands and making various gestures, turns over the warm colors in the earth through the cold eyes of the season, which will be a cool classical figure. Ploughshares and old farmers who are seriously inclined to mud waves are urged to carry the last feathers of spring. After experiencing abundant vitality, the last gathered feather in the season hides under the wings of heavy spring dusk, serenades gracefully and quietly licks the sails sailing in the sea of four seasons. Who fell out of favor under the eaves of love after harvesting love? Turn your back on hope, and once romantic passion will quietly swim out a drop of clear tears in the steaming space of spring clouds. Vilen saw that the dying light was bathed in the tempering of clouds. Driving beautiful feathers in the fiery journey of the sea and sky, crossing the smoke lock, and then holding the pious prayer flags far away with silent promises. Who hunted the feathers in spring but couldn't find the soaring sky to collect feathers on the branches of feelings 2004-03- 08 "Waiting for the arrival of sunshine" I think, in a spring afternoon, maybe many things will be boring, looking at the distant sky on the windowsill. The crowded downstairs is crowded with pedestrians in a hurry. They all look serious and witness the actions of others. On the one hand, the sky is clear, with lyric pigeon feathers and pigeon whistle. Slide between the kite and the breeze unscrupulously, and cast vigorous shadows to move under the canopy. Only choice. Irregular strokes, traces of thinking, pigeons, spreading their feathers, set up a bridge to the distance, waiting for a beam of sunshine, preferably a long-lost sunshine, to rush over and then hug them heartily. On February 2, 2004, the car stomped wearily to the target from the noise, and the boiling vilen was silent. In the spring when rape blossoms are in full bloom, a group of bees, as masters, come to the depths of the season and lie smartly in the stamens. From the gap between the petals, I witnessed the dancing and stretching of the wind, exhaled the depression in my chest, and stopped comfort and ease on the road outside the window. A red apricot playfully walked through the wall along the drawn curtain, and the thick aroma mixed with brewed alcohol smoked a car full of people.

2. A modern poem describing the seasons of spring, summer, autumn and winter with dust > I am waiting for you in the wind of early spring/with orange wildflowers in my bun/even at the ends of the earth/you will see this dazzling persistence/the wind blowing/the fragrance of wildflowers holding you in my dream/the person in my dream/when the soft moonlight gently pours down on your bedside/do you know/is that the feeling of my coming quietly? I'm waiting for you in the midsummer rain/with a familiar pink umbrella in my hand/even though Qianshan is separated by water/you will hear trembling sadness/wind chimes ringing/that's my bitter call/ringing/floating through one figure after another/but familiar figures/that can give me a clear sky/never appear/don't you really know/that the rain that jumped into your eyes/is me. I am waiting for you in the late autumn frost/with your faded promise in my mouth/Shan Ye/rich golden color/reflecting my haggard mercilessly/if I am in the afterglow of sunset/my waiting withers/it will only wither into a red leaf of Xiangshan/draw a beautiful arc in the vast sky/turn my deep affection into a cup of fragrant mud/wait for your near-life excavation and pity! I'm waiting for you in the snow in the middle of winter/I'm wearing white piety/the world in my heart is so spotless/the frozen story is as lonely as ever/the budding snow lotus on Tianshan Mountain/the lovesickness I precipitated/silently waiting for your distant gathering/how many times I imagined/when you appeared in front of me with sunshine/how I burst into tears ... waiting for you/I was standing in the still scenery/the sun, the moon and the stars were there. Wind, thunder, rain and snow are laughing and cursing in my ears/Walking around me in spring, summer, autumn and winter/Flowers and trees are snuggling at my feet/And I/am still waiting for your arrival with an eternal attitude! ! ! ..... Who's Chun, opening a brand-new first-page calendar and flying in the rain? Is the cuckoo spreading its wings in the clouds? Or, firecrackers in the farewell sound? Who planted the first hope on the dry Yuan Ye and the hard-working cattle on the yellow land? Is it father's weathered white hair on his forehead? In other words, the wrinkles on the mother's face were refuted by the rings.

I only saw a wisp of drizzle and wind flying by, and in this way, your pretty cheeks were blown pink by apricot flowers and red by peach blossoms. In this way, you awakened the dream of sleeping for thousands of years and began to set foot on a new footprint.

Before you get dressed in summer, the sun is burning your heart, bearing the entrustment of spring, and you are carefully guarding your first promise. In the afternoon, the dark clouds swam across the clear sky, and then shed a touching tear, washing away the tired dust on the farmers' shoulders.

At this time, the newly withered shoots of the branches have given birth to new life. In the chirp of crickets, the figure was slowly elongated, elongated ... People in the crops waved sickles and hoes gnawed by years, and wrote some distant hopes with the poet's pen. Autumn sent away the last ray of hot sunshine in summer. You held the hand of the seed and helped you through two seasons.

Just for the golden fruits hanging on the branches everywhere and the simple smiling faces of farmers in the fields. I can clearly see that their eyes are full of tears of joy.

Finally, the ears of wheat in the rice field quietly climbed to the top of the former seedlings, bending the leaves; Also bend the reaper's back pressure and bend the shoulder pole. You comforted the sweat of farmers who have traveled for a long time with a bumper harvest.

Swallows flying in the south, whose leaves have fallen back to their roots, were sent away from the treetops by you, spitting out a trace of white fog affectionately, covering up the footprints at home, leaving only blue sky and long memories. Whose winter ended the last season of 360 days, the snowflakes falling on the top of the mountain? Is it a cold current blowing on the roof? Or, the thick cotton-padded jacket on the villagers.

Who is it, quietly sweeping away the colorful prosperity of the past, or a bug sleeping secretly in the ground? Is it the lazy dying sun? Or, a light tree that has been busy all his life? I can no longer see the apricot flowers dancing in the setting sun, and I can't hear the drizzle that moistens the girl's heart in the small building. Looking back suddenly, you have fulfilled your last promise, grabbed an endless handful of white snow, sprinkled it all over the earth, and continued to lead the songs that are not old.

In the biting cold wind, wait, wait … wait for the next spring. I am looking for you in the wind of early spring/even if you are far away at sea, you can feel my dazzling persistence/the faint fragrance of flowers dancing with the wind/with my affectionate cry/when a flower falls in front of you/please bow your head/you know/that is the guiding sign of my soul/I will follow it! I followed the midsummer rain to find you/Even though there are thousands of waters in Qian Shan/You can still touch my deep concern/Like the summer rain/If a drop of rain falls on your cheek/Please call my name/You know/That's the last tear I shed for you/I will follow it! I look at you along the frost in late autumn/I look forward to being with you before your promise fades/If you look at it at dusk/There is a touch of afterglow of the sunset shining on you/It makes you feel very hot/Please open your eyes/You know/That's the last ray of light from my eyes looking for you/I will fly with the light of your eyes! I want to hug you in the winter snow/when you pray for me in white piety/the world of soul is covered with thick snow/waiting for your warmth to melt/I will pick the budding Saussurea involucrata on the Tianshan Mountains/tie it at your beginning/then step on the winter snow with your hand/follow the autumn frost/follow the summer rain/walk towards the spring breeze/cross all the year round/follow my dripping footprints/take you back! ..... dusty in spring, summer, autumn and winter > I'm waiting for you in the wind in early spring/there are orange wildflowers in my bun/even at the ends of the earth/you will see this dazzling persistence/the wind blowing/the fragrance of wildflowers holding you in your dream/the person in the dream/when the soft moonlight gently pours on your bedside/do you know/is that the feeling of my coming quietly? I'm waiting for you in the midsummer rain/with a familiar pink umbrella in my hand/even though Qianshan is separated by water/you will hear trembling sadness/wind chimes ringing/that's my bitter call/ringing/floating through one figure after another/but familiar figures/that can give me a clear sky/never appear/don't you really know/that the rain that jumped into your eyes/is me. I am waiting for you in the late autumn frost/with your faded promise in my mouth/Shan Ye/rich golden color/mercilessly reflecting my haggard/if somewhere.

3. Modern Poetry about Four Seasons of Spring (Modern Poetry) When the greenery of life climbs up my door, tell me the message of the wanderer's return: butterflies are flying in the garden, and pebbles who wake up from hibernation have already dreamed of the sweet spring ode (modern poetry) at the beginning of the year. The equatorial warm wind can't stand the temptation of the ancient Great Wall, set off a green carpet and quietly spread it to the north. It holds the elephant in spring, sucks the milk of time, and playfully shakes the beard of Siberian cold current with the encouragement of Sunshine's mother-in-law. Melt the ice and snow with a fiery chest, generously give the blush on your face to Taolin, casually throw away the smog yarn wrapped around your neck and wrap it around countless rivers. Yaner chased it at the foot of Wanqian Peak, toyed with it, tore off pieces of white clouds and helped it write charming fairy tales about natural changes and seasonal changes. Summer (Modern Poetry) The rain in midsummer washes the sky and reveals the story of that year with a lonely pencil. Do not leave the scene. Play it back like an old movie. You said I'm sorry, I love you, and then I cried. I'm at a loss. My dream will accompany me. The first summer after you left, I tried to record your helplessness with the most beautiful poems. Fingertips are cold and you can't write warm words. Oh, baby, I still don't understand why you chose to leave me. Do you continue to wait for the plane leaves floating by the roadside? The green moonlight lingers outside the door. One day, the lost heart will come back. Rainy summer, by the river.

Flap your wings and set the sunset on the river; Reed with white heads has also been made into beautiful moments. Pan, you said that you wanted to like the rain in summer because you were afraid of rainy days, but I am so sad now because I thought that when you said this, you ignored the expression and mood of a little girl at that time. When I met you, it was a season far away from the rainy season, and then there was not even a little bit of * * * between us throughout the long autumn and winter days. The same memory, maybe our love was destined to start from the rainy season, but there was too much rain this summer, and I was never used to playing an umbrella. How can you bear my stormy love? How many times have I stood behind you and stared at the rain in front of your window? In fact, if I could look over your back at that time, I would know how heavy my mood was in the rainstorm and how low the sky was in the rainstorm, or it would have been earlier if I had just moved over your shoulder and kissed you. Seeing your fear and your tears, when I wrote these words, our sky was thousands of miles apart. At this time, I don't know if it is raining in your sky, but does my lover still remember what I said? No matter what happens in this world, as long as you stand behind me, this is what I want to say to you most in my life, but now all this can only be said to the rain. Originally, I thought I would use the hardships of the first 40 years. After 40 years, the bright sunshine was to you, but now it has become meaningless, whether it is cold wind or bright sunshine. Just let me come and stay early. Maybe it won't rain in the next life. Maybe I can meet you without rain in my next life. I have completely exhausted my passion for life, squandered my passion all the way with my personality, and finally exhausted it. Everything is a beautiful beginning and an unreasonable end. Hurt, give up, swear, deceive yourself. If time could go back, I would rather die than say my love every time. Autumn (Modern Poetry) "Autumn Night on the River" Liu Dabai's homing bird, although trapped, still carries the sunset.

Flap your wings and set the sunset on the river; Reed with white heads has also been made into beautiful moments. Autumn (modern poem) "Dove" Hu looks pale and the sky is high and the clouds are light. What a late autumn weather! There is a flock of pigeons playing in the air.

Look at them in twos and threes, circling back and forth, they are like meaning. -suddenly, they turned over, reflecting the sun, white against the sky, beautiful! (19 18) Autumn Morning says goodbye to you. On a starry night in first frost, I suffered from the pain that holy water is hard to wash. You stepped on my back. Welcome, Shu Dong, you are alive again! At this last moment, I opened my eyes, put my hands around the feet of the sun, watched the leaves tremble and dance, and listened to the sound of the city until I shed tears of joy! (1934) "Shanghai-Hangzhou Train" Xu Zhimo is in a hurry! Come on, come on! A cigarette, a mountain, a few clouds, a piece of water, a bridge, a muffled sound, a pine, a clump of bamboo, a piece of red leaves: colorful fields, colorful autumn scenery, clear as a dream, vague, looming,-urge! Is it a wheel or time? Urging old Qiu, urging old age! (1928) "Whispering" Xu Zhimo's autumn rain is a cold autumn pool, a gaunt autumn willow, a timid autumn branch, and a yellow autumn leaf. Listening to his kiss, he whispered Sanqiu's feelings and love stories, and finally brushed him off in the autumn eyes. Whispering of autumn rain, Sanqiu's love affair and the plot of love poems also fell into the autumn halo of autumn eyes, whirling and following the autumn flow.

(1July 2, 9221day) Autumn Moon: Autumn Moon of Xu Zhimo! Who can afford to scratch and crawl romantically with silver fingertips? I don't believe it, but look at the light waves of the sea, but I can't help crying with the touch of its jade fingers! That's it: boring clouds, the beauty of the autumn moon, cold eyes and cold clothes to attend this happy wedding and funeral. (19221October 6) The reason why Xu Zhimo's Autumn Moon is like the moonlight tonight is because we are all looking up-look at it, a full charm rises from the dark cloud like a mob-and it is particularly bright and round.

It spreads out on the road, it floats on the water, and it dips in the bottom like sad weeds; It lingers on the eaves of the ancient city, thousands of city bricks breathe in its glory, it caresses the ruins of tombs scattered outside the city and inside the city, and it wants to see the old and new ghosts in the constant sound of birds singing. It also stands like us, with sparkling eyes and biting yin: silver lingering poetry is like star phosphorus on the water. Listen to the songs of the four fields-eternal and humble harmony, sadness mixed with joy, hatred and love.

4. Who is the modern poem "Spring", which describes the four seasons of spring, summer, autumn and winter and opens a brand-new first page calendar? Is it a swallow flying in the rain? Is the cuckoo spreading its wings in the clouds? Or, firecrackers in the farewell sound? Who sowed the first seed of hope on the dry Yuan Ye and the hard-working bull on the yellow land? Is it father's weathered white hair on his forehead? In other words, the wrinkles on the mother's face were refuted by the rings.

I only saw a wisp of drizzle and wind flying by, and in this way, your pretty cheeks were blown pink by apricot flowers and red by peach blossoms. In this way, you awakened the dream of sleeping for thousands of years and began to set foot on a new footprint.

Before you get dressed in summer, the sun is burning your heart, bearing the entrustment of spring, and you are carefully guarding your first promise. In the afternoon, the dark clouds swam across the clear sky, and then shed a touching tear, washing away the tired dust on the farmers' shoulders.

At this time, the newly withered shoots of the branches have given birth to new life. In the chirp of crickets, the figure was slowly elongated, elongated ... People in the crops waved sickles and hoes gnawed by years, and wrote some distant hopes with the poet's pen. Autumn sent away the last ray of hot sunshine in summer. You held the hand of the seed and helped you through two seasons.

Just for the golden fruits hanging on the branches everywhere and the simple smiling faces of farmers in the fields. I can clearly see that their eyes are full of tears of joy.

Finally, the ears of wheat in the rice field quietly climbed to the top of the former seedlings, bending the leaves; Also bend the reaper's back pressure and bend the shoulder pole. You comforted the sweat of farmers who have traveled for a long time with a bumper harvest.

Swallows flying in the south, whose leaves have fallen back to their roots, were sent away from the treetops by you, spitting out a trace of white fog affectionately, covering up the footprints at home, leaving only blue sky and long memories. Whose winter ended the last season of 360 days, the snowflakes falling on the top of the mountain? Is it a cold current blowing on the roof? Or, the thick cotton-padded jacket on the pedestrians in the village.

Who is it, quietly sweeping away the colorful prosperity of the past, or a bug sleeping secretly in the ground? Is it the lazy dying sun? Or, a light tree that has been busy all his life? I can no longer see the apricot flowers dancing in the setting sun, and I can't hear the drizzle that moistens the girl's heart in the small building. Looking back suddenly, you have fulfilled your last promise, grabbed an endless handful of white snow, sprinkled it all over the earth, and continued to lead the songs that are not old.

In the biting cold wind, wait, wait … wait for the next spring. I am looking for you in the wind of early spring/even if you are far away at sea, you can feel my dazzling persistence/the faint fragrance of flowers dancing with the wind/with my affectionate cry/when a flower falls in front of you/please bow your head/you know/that is the guiding sign of my soul/I will follow it! I followed the midsummer rain to find you/Even though there are thousands of waters in Qian Shan/You can still touch my deep concern/Like the summer rain/If a drop of rain falls on your cheek/Please call my name/You know/That's the last tear I shed for you/I will follow it! I look at you along the frost in late autumn/I look forward to being with you before your promise fades/If you look at it at dusk/There is a touch of afterglow of the sunset shining on you/It makes you feel very hot/Please open your eyes/You know/That's the last ray of light from my eyes looking for you/I will fly with the light of your eyes! I want to hug you in the winter snow/when you pray for me in white piety/the world of soul is covered with thick snow/waiting for your warmth to melt/I will pick the budding Saussurea involucrata on the Tianshan Mountains/tie it at your beginning/then step on the winter snow with your hand/follow the autumn frost/follow the summer rain/walk towards the spring breeze/cross all the year round/follow my dripping footprints/take you back! ..... dusty in spring, summer, autumn and winter > I'm waiting for you in the wind in early spring/there are orange wildflowers in my bun/even at the ends of the earth/you will see this dazzling persistence/the wind blowing/the fragrance of wildflowers holding you in your dream/the person in the dream/when the soft moonlight gently pours on your bedside/do you know/is that the feeling of my coming quietly? I'm waiting for you in the midsummer rain/with a familiar pink umbrella in my hand/even though Qianshan is separated by water/you will hear trembling sadness/wind chimes ringing/that's my bitter call/ringing/floating through one figure after another/but familiar figures/that can give me a clear sky/never appear/don't you really know/that the rain that jumped into your eyes/is me. I am waiting for you in the late autumn frost/with your faded promise in my mouth/Shan Ye/rich golden color/reflecting my haggard mercilessly/if I am in the afterglow of sunset/my waiting withers/it will only wither into a red leaf of Xiangshan/draw a beautiful arc in the vast sky/turn my deep affection into a cup of fragrant mud/wait for your near-life excavation and pity! I'm waiting for you in the snow in the middle of winter/I'm wearing white piety/the world in my heart is so spotless/the frozen story is as lonely as ever/the budding snow lotus on Tianshan Mountain/the lovesickness I precipitated/silently waiting for your distant gathering/how many times I imagined/when you appeared in front of me with sunshine/how I burst into tears ... waiting for you/I was standing in the still scenery/the sun, the moon and the stars were there. Wind, thunder, rain and snow are laughing and cursing in my ears/Walking around me in spring, summer, autumn and winter/Flowers and trees are snuggling at my feet/And I/am still waiting for your arrival with an eternal attitude! ! ! [Original 2006-04-11:17: 48] Publisher: lpsy (1) When the spring breeze from Xu He blows, I will. By the gurgling brook, listen to the beautiful piano sound of Qingxi; In the willow forest where Liu Siman dances, enjoy the singing and whispering of birds; Under the smiling peach tree, looking at the purples of the tree, counting the fragrant petals, looking up at the new branches hanging green; Walking into the green wheat field, I watched the young man who watered me pass by with a big smile, and the peasant girl who smiled like a bell, fertilizing the soil on the ridge; In the warm farmhouse, I am listening: March cultivation, April sowing, summer wheat harvest, autumn red fruit, winter granary.

Spring is the season of sowing and the season of hope.

Modern poems describing the four seasons are a bit sad.

Season love song

Text/a trace of spring dreams, summer solstice injuries still exist, early autumn night is deep, winter snow reads the heart.

The dream of spring is traceless. How does it feel to suddenly think of this spring at night? Careful memory, hard thinking, no impression, one tree-lined road after another; Pour out your heart sentence by sentence; I don't remember! I can't help wondering and starting to panic. Did my time flow away in a hurry and messy pace? Did it flow away in unprepared thoughts? I woke up at the moment when I felt the autumn wind carefully. Yes, our days are gone forever. She has feet. My once happy spring was like this. Go like this! Laughing silently, I can only look at the past in front of me, like in a clear and short dream, and wake up without leaving a trace of existence! Injuries from the summer solstice still exist. This summer is very special, unlike usual, I can't hear the crisp cicada singing, and I can't feel the sweat dripping after the activity. It seems that time has stopped at this moment, and everything is so dull, lively and lifeless, which scares me. Although this scene is just around the corner, the past is vivid and contradictory! I'm glad, too. So wandering at the tasteless intersection, unable to shout in the desolation! Hot days, after burning me, quietly left, consciousness-left with her departure, leaving only a lost body. I only feel hazy, as if in a dream, an unreal season. The first night of autumn is already deep. The day before yesterday, in my hometown, I was far away from the city under the stars, where I could listen to the sound of fallen leaves. I lie on the cane chair with my eyes closed, and let my whole body feel the coolness of autumn wind. Looking at the moon hanging on the tree head, I suddenly felt a sense of decline. Why? Oh, when I looked up and saw the full moon, I knew; It turns out that this is loneliness and the confusion of Mid-Autumn Festival. In this lost autumn, I returned to the warmth of being a family. A quiet life is no longer eager to seek that sweet and bitter smile, but a person walks quietly under his own sky with a smile. The night is deep and the autumn wind is cold, waiting for tomorrow with untitled articles from the past. It's time to rest! Winter snow is pleasant. I thought it would be particularly cold this winter. It was a disaster. What I feel in advance is actually a warm winter. Watching the colorful sky fall, birds sing more loudly in the first month. Love god; I have entered my dying heart. Forget the confused spring, throw away the tasteless summer, forget the cold autumn and start to step into the sweet winter.

6. Four Seasons Modern Poetry carries the poet's spring, summer, autumn and winter all year round. The wheels of years slowly run over on the road of the four seasons, leaving deep and shallow traces.

Appreciate the flowers in front of the window and look up at the clouds in the sky. Different seasons have different charms.

The beauty of the four seasons makes people linger and be fascinated. I also got a happiness from it! In the season of "Jasper is as high as a tree, and thousands of threads of green silk hang down", I know that the pace of spring is near! I came to the park to enjoy the delicious spring breeze.

Go to the willow and gently stroke the slender green wicker. How comfortable and happy they live! Immersed in the embrace of nature all day, swinging wicker with the wind.

I get happiness from the warmth of spring. By chance, we met the vitality of "infinite bright lotus leaves and different colors of lotus flowers" and felt the enthusiasm of summer.

Stand by and watch the West Lake and enjoy the lotus flowers. I heard her warm breath in the distance, and I was happy for the arrival of summer.

When we are intoxicated with its enthusiasm, we can see the beautiful scenery like fire, hear the passionate music and feel a warm current. I get pleasure from the unrestrained summer.

Enjoy the red leaf scenery of "parking in the maple forest late, frosty leaves are red and February flowers are red". When I came to the forest, my eyes were full of fiery maple leaves and ripe fruits everywhere, which made me forget the desolation of falling leaves all over the ground and flourishing leaves.

On the contrary, I think autumn is also a hot season. Her fruitful results made me forget the hustle and bustle of the city and immerse myself in the joy of harvest. I get pleasure from the sweet fruit in autumn.

In winter, I can't help but think that "there are several plum trees in the corner, and Ling2 han2 is alone". Then I breathe the cold and think about the attractive smell of wintersweet.

I feel the power of wintersweet. I also smell happiness from the smell of wintersweet in winter.

The scenery of the four seasons has different charm in the change of the four seasons. I get happiness from the four seasons.