Drama is like life. Time and space are separated by a sad sediment, which flows through a shallow river, which is the pain that years never want to see. The dripping spring willow, gently brushing the ripples of life, is confusing and tells the tenderness of youth. You dreamed that I was deeply in love with MengMeng's Spring Bud. You just told me a strange fate by accident, telling your youth so vividly. Wet tightly wrapped in thin clothes, in the distance is a misty dream, dripping gently and delicately, dripping all the way nonsense. The spring dream is gone forever, just like the sparkling deep sea, but the sun is shining, and the afterglow of the sunset will blacken the beautiful center of the earth.
The belt is getting wider and wider, and the dream of lovesickness is a life that youth dare not talk about. How many times have I been soft? This is the seed of love, shy first love. I covered my forehead with my sleeve and secretly gave an impulsive and erotic look. I invite you to stretch the tenderness of a spring dream in the Rocky Mountain Stream and the backyard of the garden, embrace a strange breath, sing the years and flowers, and cross the music of life, just for you to dance in the flowers and green forever, kiss the flying autumn leaves and fall into the snow-white lingering.
Shallow singing is the murmur of the years, the wild dream of sadness and lingering resentment, and long-sleeved dancing is a struggle to beg for life. Selling one's soul and singing lightly is a kind of singing method of the years. Pale sadness can't cover up another silent sadness in the long river of life. However, time flies, and youth can't touch the falling petals, but they are crushed into mud and gradually drift away in the past memories. In spring, flowers should be picked, and pacing is just to relax. In memory, the past can be folded into several folding fans, giving this day a spring breeze. The past is like the wind, talking about eyebrows reveals the beauty of spring, * * * crossing the riverside to spend the moonlight, drinking wine, and getting drunk once in life.
Hum, focus on pear blossoms. Echoing the tearful parting of the past. The rain hit the banana and I couldn't sleep all night. Youth can't control the surging youth, just because it sends you to the misty lotus, with a heart smile, spreading tenderness and charming amorous feelings. Who hasn't been tempted to yearn for beauty, love and pour out his life at the age of amorous feelings? The vows of eternal love are only for a moment of passion. I want to move my lips. The wind blew away the truth all the way, and the story grew into the past and memories in the heart. If you wave your sleeves and throw them out, it's like waving them smartly in your life and dancing your life's youth.
Life is like a play, only sound, no one. Wonderful moment, mysterious. For example, autumn, full of vicissitudes of life memories, red flying, like a scattered flower, falling to the world. Shallow footsteps, how many years have passed, singing deep and shallow, full of hesitation and instant enrichment. Publicly sang the chaotic mood of seasonal dance, which stirred up life so deeply. Singing the precipitation of years, youth is full and attractive. Even if the last flower falls in the years, it is also the memory of youth and the last tear I shed for you.
Close your eyes, listen to the story of the years sung in the play, and feel a kind of thoughts floating in the atmosphere of love, which is so euphemistic, subtle, gentle, romantic and reserved. For example, thoughts are floating softly in the wind, songs are sung indifferently in the moonlight, and songs with emotional years are charming as dew flowers, like shame, graceful and restrained with skillful style, touching expression and leisurely rhythm of mature seasons, and gradually walk in the Long Bridge Pavilion to meet the people in your dreams. Is a dreamer with youth, singing a story of spring return.
Dreams leave behind how many lingering memories there are in the dusty, telling the story of how the years have precipitated. Just walk on the path paved with bluestone as always, never look back, have a long heart and have taste in small things. Either be silent or sing softly, through the confused eyes, feel sad about the past and enjoy the days.
Dancing with blue sleeves, the years are singing the drama of life. Slightly reddish, faint arch eyebrows. Dancing, walking on the shore of the world of mortals, looking forward to acacia, my heart softened, and for a second, tears fell on my cheeks, secretly hurting. The care that the years can't walk out hangs history high and hangs in the wandering world. The four seasons of youth temptation have been waiting for a long time, waiting for the spoony heart of love and walking on the road of love. Walking in a nostalgic heart.
No matter how years go through the drama of life, you can't get out of the love that you sing softly in your heart. No matter how life sings the drama of the years, you are attached to a dream of rejuvenation. The dust that slipped through your fingers all your life, like a person, gradually became clear, wrapped around the shallow river bed, floated in a free and melodious center of the earth, danced with your sleeves on the long road and beside the faint ancient pavilion, and stirred your soul with an ancient dream.
Youth has simple thoughts, graceful amorous feelings, and the ferocity and madness of the center of the earth. You can't always come out of the play. Only when you are invited to the life of youth can you see the youth with mottled life. The four seasons are bleak, and the years are surging. You can't let go of a feeling and stretch out an unspeakable hardship. Only in the past of history, tenderness is an emotion that cannot be concealed. It sings a kind of youth of life, such as years touching the bottom of my heart, shallow singing, tepid, unhurried, hiding, crying, shallow singing or loudly singing the drama of life in the cycle of seasons.
Life is like a play, and a play is like life.