Talking about the autumn scenery, and counting the wild geese with a smile.
News comes and goes, but we have never met.
Wipe your eyes now, and when I come to visit you next time, we will glance at each other calmly.
Dilute sparse stars with wine, and the joy will be intense.
Drink the moon in the river, the water in the moon, the wind in the water.
The third one is a poem
Riding on the smoke, the willow forest is far away, and the lights are heading towards Pingjin.
The road sends the setting sun late, and the wind urges the grass and trees to grow new.
The nine provinces share the same moon at night, and the thousands of miles share the same floating clouds.
There are mountains and seas between us, and I miss you even more when we part.
Li Changle stared at these poems and read them several times, muttering to herself from time to time. She didn't expect that Wang Weimin, a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties, could write poems with such a youthful feeling.
Wang Weimin looked at Li Changle expectantly and asked, "How is it?"
Li Changle smiled and said, "Uncle Wang's talent is naturally excellent, needless to say. Uncle Wang, are you planning to use these poems to compete in the poetry competition?"
Li Changle was telling the truth. In her opinion, these poems were indeed quite good. If they were to be submitted to a poetry competition, based on the level of last year's poems, one of the three would surely be shortlisted.
Wang Weimin waved his hand and said, "Hey, the poetry competition is for you young people, why would an old man like me join in the fun? I just had some free time and wrote a few poems that were inspired by my feelings. I'm glad that someone can appreciate them."
Li Changle smiled, knowing that with Wang Weimin's status, he would basically be shortlisted for the poetry competition, which everyone thought was natural. It would be really embarrassing if he was not shortlisted.
But Wang Weimin was itching to show it to others, so he wrote a few poems. If he didn't show them to others, he would lose the fun of writing them.
Wang Weimin was satisfied with Li Changle's praise and turned his attention to Li Changle: "Tell me quickly, uncle, what works have you written this year? Have you submitted them?"
Li Changle shook his head with a wry smile. He had many poems about the bright moon in his mind, but it was really difficult to choose which one to participate in the competition.
Seeing Li Changle's expression and thinking of Li Changle's past style of doing things, he asked uncertainly, "Could it be that he hasn't written it yet?"
Li Changle quickly waved his hands and said, "Not really, I just don't know which one to choose yet..."
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