What red poems are there?

Falling red is not heartless, but turning into spring mud protects flowers more.

Evening turned to the bare coast, and mist rose.

There is no sad song for me, I don't know what happened.

But this spring spring, after all, can't be caged. Look, there is a pink apricot sticking out of the wall.

Everyone can see the face of spring, the spring breeze blows flowers open, thousands of purple, and the scene of spring is everywhere.

Hua Lin thanked Chunhong. She was in a hurry, but she came late in the cold rain.