When I was in high school, I liked reading Haizi, Gucheng and Beidao. I always feel that their works have the melancholy temperament unique to poets. At that time, when I was young and fond of fantasy, such writing made me feel a little loud. I tried to recite a few songs, but I forgot them all in the end. I picked a few impressive songs to recommend. My personal feeling still meets your requirements.

The first song is Gu Cheng's "The Earth is Curved", and my favorite sentence is "Give me a cloud to wipe away the sunny time, my eyes need tears, and my world needs sleep". Such sentences can be seen everywhere in Gu Cheng's poems, which is the embodiment of his talent. I don't want a cloudless Wan Li in Wan Li, and I don't want the sun shining high. I want a cloud to help me hide the harsh light, I am vague and hazy, help me spend this embarrassing sunny day and give me a dark night. Only at night will my eyes not dry up, only at night can my heart vent, only at night will the whole world become quiet, and only at night will you give me a beautiful dream.

Then there is the poem "Everything" by North Island. Interestingly, every sentence in this poem begins with the word "everything", "everything is fate/everything is smoke/everything is the beginning without an ending/everything is the fleeting pursuit/all happiness is without a smile/all suffering is without tears/all languages are repetitive/all communication is the first time/all love is in my heart/all past events.

Fate is endless, controlling everything, but everything is fleeting. So the curtain opened and an endless performance began. We are all actors who constantly pursue and regard the moment as eternity. We are happy, but smiling doesn't mean happiness. We are sad, but tears will only flow in our hearts. The language is pale, the encounter is silent, the love is moving, and the past is only in the dream. My hope is still to explain, so that you can understand that your faith is still a psychological effect after it is broken. The hysteria after the last straw is empty and unspeakable, and the joy of the deceased still lingers in my mind for a long time after lamenting.

Besides the two poets mentioned above, Mu Xin is also my favorite writer, and his poems are also the ones I read the most now. What impressed me the most was his quiet indifference, which always made people feel that his words and poems were as warm as jade. In my opinion, The Lark Cryed for a Day and My Lust Continues are the condensation of his painstaking efforts, and I, the very short one, is my favorite, with only one sentence, "I am the one who is snowing in the dark". Mu Xin is good at writing such beautiful poems, which is highly recommended.