Incorporate the fleeting years into poetry and inscribe a poem about the meeting of pear blossoms like snow. The place where the ink is drawn is the sparse shadow of the misty rain in the river.
Use time to enter the painting, depicting the prosperity of the passing years. The blank space is the waiting for the past and present.
How many complicated stories, growing old calmly, standing on the passing road, looking at the green mountains in the distance, sparse red tiles and white walls; looking at the charming past, thinning out the prosperity of the place; looking at the cool moon Like eyebrows, they take care of thousands of mountains.
A pot of tea promises a fleeting time
Once you turn around, time becomes a story; once you look back, time becomes scenery.
A pillow to sleep in through a small window, a curtain with bamboo rhymes in the wind, a cut of flowing clouds and a green day, and a light mist of green.
In the season of old age, the flowers are shaking and falling, each is happy, in the bright and cool room, where the eyebrows are lowered, the distant mountains are reflected, the moon is flowing over the stream, the bright flowers are spread out, and a piece of paper is filled with still ink.
In the story of aging, we can encounter a thousand-year-old time, passing by the setting sun's hometown, with a few plum trees and willows, and moonlight everywhere.
"The Notes of a Small Window": "Sometimes I plant bamboos when it rains, and hoe flowers when the door is closed; I pick up my pen and delete old sentences, and drink springs to try new teas."
If you can. Making tea with time and drinking wine with time, the past memories of green plum blossoms, the angry horses in fresh clothes, and the scolding Fang Qiu are also a tender old time.
Light, silent, the fragrance of a cup of tea in my hand, some warmth spreading, and your smile, on this casual afternoon, at this time, the corners of my mouth.
Have half a day to spare, brew a pot of tea, watch the thin leaves enter the water, experience the charcoal, taste it lightly and drink deeply, ups and downs, bitterness and sweetness.
Two bowls broke the loneliness and boredom, and had no intention of quchenhua. The short paper runs diagonally, letting the ink rest. Reading the words holding flowers at your fingertips fills the room with the fragrance of grass and trees.
The years are cold and the time is depressing. You need to appreciate it by yourself: when the spring breeze rises, the plain-hand flute is played in the sparse shadows of apricot flowers; when it snows in winter, fishing alone in thousands of mountains is lonely and high.
Not everything you like will come true, and not everything you wait for will bloom. One person's joy, one person's vastness of water, under the soft light and shadow, in the brown smoke, is a pot of moonlight joy.
Silence is because we understand that there is no need to pretend, every word and sentence is intentional.
The moon is missing and the trees are sparse, breaking the silence of the people. A cut of time, a string sound, the misty lovesickness, leisurely following the string pipe, strands of silk, half into the idle clouds, half into the river breeze. Autumn moon and spring breeze when I get older, how much lovesickness I get when I get older.
Keep a quiet mind and enjoy a slow time
Zhou Guoping:
“Interesting things in the world, including poetry, wine, philosophy, and love, are often useless. . Reciting useless poems, getting drunk on useless wine, reading useless books, and loving useless things, I finally became a useless person, but I lived a meaningful life because of it."
In the light of summer, Some people are like mist in time; some things are like old lotus clothes in memories.
The past has turned cold, the wind carries a fine fragrance, and in the thin smoke shaken by the light rain, there is the sound of wind and the scent of flowers. It is pure and dust-free. Wherever the eyes turn, the clouds are green and green, and the water is like rain. There is smoke in the water. Infatuated and entangled, it penetrates into people's eyebrows, into their souls, and into their bones.
The breeze hangs all over the fence, time stops deep in the flowers, and your eyes filled with water are also hung with strings of incense. The fragrance of the wind, the fragrance of flowers, the fragrance of snow, the fragrance of the moon, sighing that it is difficult to smell the fragrance of the world, is on the fence year after year.
A fence surrounds the years of a mountain; among the fallen flowers along the path of time, the wind blows a line of poetry, the flowers bloom into a pot of wine among the branches, the snow falls and plucks the strings of the piano, and the moon comes around The furnace listens to the chess pieces.
All the good things in the world have been arranged early, and the years of mercy are always filled with sadness. As long as you look at it quietly, think about it, and linger, you will naturally understand. When you look up, you will see the wind, flowers, snow, moon, and sky, and you will be accompanied by poetry, wine, music, and chess players.
The prosperity has faded away, and the years have been filled with sorrow
Haruki Murakami: "You have to be a calm adult. Don't be emotional, don't miss secretly, don't Look back. Live your own other life. You have to be obedient. Not all fish will live in the same sea.
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Time is passing and fireworks are passing by. In the context of time, there are so many emotions, melancholy and desolation, and the eyebrows are lowered with sadness.
The eyebrows are lowered in the elegance of a poem, the eyebrows are lowered I bow my eyebrows to the gentleness of a poem, to a trip that just leaves, to the joy of a flower blooming and the sadness of a flower falling, and to the gentleness of you bowing your head.
Even though. The prosperity has faded away, even though the years are full of sorrow, even though there are worries about being thin and yellow flowers, even though there is hesitation about the moonlight all over the ground, even though there is the sadness that falls with the seasons
We still have to believe, Everything in the world is worth looking forward to, all the emotions are worth waiting for, and all the days will not sink.
As time goes by, and the fireworks are warm, I hope we can all forget the sadness of the years.