Question 2: What does it mean that teenagers are born with beautiful hair? Because of sentimentality, the teenager's hair was stained with snow prematurely, and the girl had no intention of dressing up for acacia, which made the beauty disappear early.
Question 3: pale or intoxicated, amazing time, may the stars be with you ... what do you mean? n
Question 4: What does it mean to sit in the water and listen to stories about water, smoke, water and beauty?
Sitting on the shore, enjoying the beautiful scenery of Jiangnan water town and thinking about life, time passes too fast from adolescence to old age.
Question 5: What does it mean to love the old, cherish the passing of light, have a baby early and be full of the sadness of teenagers? Sigh that time flies, youth is fleeting, and melancholy is depressed.
Question 6: At the end of the song, everyone lost all their hair, their temples turned white and their red faces died. After vicissitudes of life, things have changed, white hair appears on the temples, and red face turns into memories. ....
Question 7: What does the beauty sigh mean? The people's language, Suzhou city Charlotte, sad songs, the collapse of red embroidery adding fragrance, the love of beans, unconsciously, the painful loneliness, the fading time, this is a dream fairy tale for two people, but now it has become a joke for one person. _ _ _ Inscription
Bonus. Thank you. Who is it? The leaves are green. Who is it? Who is cold in the moon? The wind dispersed. Who is it? Flowers bloom in one season and wither in another. Trees spit green and the ground turns yellow. A hook of Leng Yue is full of lovesickness! After all, it is a reincarnation of past lives, and I can only accept my fate if I don't want to. I really don't care, I just can't do it. So, I forgot when I walked along the way, and I turned back frequently all the way, unwilling, unwilling, and unbearable …
When the prosperity is exhausted and the time is broken, I see a sadness in front of the ruined flowers. All vows are not as good as fate, and the ending of prosperity and transformation is incomplete. Who sees the world for whom? Who is looking for who to go home, and who is making flowers for whom and scattering them in the rain? I muttered in my mind, afraid to forget. Make one last wish before reincarnation. Has anyone exchanged a minute's waiting for my life's expectation?
Heart is like the sea, love is like flowers, and who is wrongly blamed for infatuation? Who is to blame for the tears of beautiful women? Who is it, singing in the ear; who is it? Pledge of eternal love Surging, my heart seems to have returned to that year. You and I are holding hands, leaning against each other and strolling on this faint ancient road. Now, the years have passed, dreams are like fog and electricity, and there is no regret in my life. Love is everywhere, and beauty is in an instant.
In this life, you are me, a confidante who has forgotten for thousands of years. You are me, dyed red and dispelled all my sad thoughts. Origin and fate, passing by, who dumped my city, whose heart I lost, from then on, I forgot the end of the world and never had the face to face it again. With you, missing a season is the season of falling flowers. Dressed in red, the skirt is fluttering, and the smooth sleeves are thrown out, as if throwing out a thousand years of the past.
Lonely stars are broken, dreams are broken, and clothes are cold. Yan in the mirror, looking through the curtains under the thin moon, is full of sad expectations. I always want to avoid those memories about you, return to the final peace, and make my heart calm and calm. However, at the moment of turning your head, you forgot the tenderness of the Millennium and planted an unforgettable injury for me in this life; Being drunk is not enough in this life. Inside and outside the volume, every word is engraved in my heart, but only one song sings the same story and fades into my heart.
The moon is still silent, and the years have turned several times in the world. It's hard not to talk when you look at the world of mortals and misty rain river! I don't know how to correct my mistakes, just like a frozen picture. Feelings are long, and those pains and feelings again and again are just an empty dream in retrospect.
I can't bear to be the master of the prosperous times, nor can I bear to listen to the songs of the prosperous times. Painful lovesickness has ignited another kind of loneliness, which has frustrated the love of generations and will eventually stop at the picture of parting. The beautiful parting long shadow opened our distance. This shore, you are on the other side of the river, and I can only say hello to you through the fog. You insisted on stepping on my heart and leaving.
The wind is bitter, the water is cold, the whole lotus is fragrant, the peony is fragrant, the morning dew is drunk, the willow leaves are light, and the dusk in Xiaoxiang is rainy, just like hanging a curtain, craving lips and teeth. Li Xiao sits at the table, taking photos on the wall, sending a piece of paper, singing and dancing like jade, soaking in half a cup of tea, watching the lifelong displacement, sighing the residual dew in Yu He, and complaining that the blue face is stained with wind and frost. Drunk tonight, time has passed; Memories of the past, simple notes. The pupa becomes a butterfly, and the butterfly breaks into a flower, but the flower flies with the wind. Sing a few whispers and get drunk and ask what year it is today.
The nectar and dew, waiting for the fall, hurt the soul, pick flowers at dusk, sigh off the temples, and lose the shadow. Standing alone under the moon, we were inseparable. A blue lamp looks at flowers, a lonely crescent moon bends, the ground is chaotic, it blooms instantly, and it is lost in the throbbing mood. Years are buried under the rain of phoenix trees, madly in love with your 3,000 hair.
Los Angeles is silent, the pen is broken, dancing is strange and dusty, quicksand flies, Qinhuai drizzle cuts melancholy, Ike ink is warm, the moon is bright in Qin Dynasty, and it moves over the female wall, Cangyang Jiacuo, shaking music. The window blows late, the waning moon sets, stepping on the shadow shakes the whole city, dreaming brilliantly, falling to the ground, touching the pain you left behind, and unconsciously wetting the tears in the corner of your eyes.
The pen is full of flowers, shallow and deep, with plain ink, makeup and tears, cold smile, light drunkenness, comfort the vicissitudes of life, rock the boat, boating on the lake, fishing alone in the cold river, rippling layer by layer, and the weak pen is still for you, filling in broken sentences.
The wind is bitter, the water is cold, the city is full of hibiscus, the peony is fragrant, the morning dew is drunk, the willow leaves are light, and the rain is the dusk in Xiaoxiang, just like hanging curtains, lusting after lips, Li Xiao's desk, the flower shadow wall, the bamboo forest breeze, a piece of paper to send, songs ... >>
Question 8: Who can know what this means? Be specific. Thank you. Who is the best singer of Acacia, wait, year after year; Who is it, stroking her eyebrows and indifferent to vicissitudes of life? Looking at the bits and pieces of attachment, listening to the deep and shallow vows of eternal love, reading the tenderness of the thread, is that your face, or the unspeakable goodbye, is that your obsession, or the time when lovesickness becomes a ruin. Overlooking this prosperous time, it shattered the world of mortals, and you were filled with legends. When we touch time, how much prosperity can we wait for? Time and wind will not dry up the ocean, so we call it the sea; Time can't bite the moon, so we call it Cang Yue. We can't keep the years, so the piece in our hearts is called the passage of time. Life is only a hundred years, so you can't attach it to your face. You can learn to dress up only if you can't stay vicissitudes. The gratitude around us proves that we still have a trace of customs that can't be killed by years, and there are still pictures worth leaving. Grateful for a lifetime, maybe we have a chance to look back for a hundred years.
When time is old, laugh when it penetrates; Time and space are tired, and when they meet again, it smiles; The space is tired, look before going to bed and think about the Millennium. The world sinks with you and it smiles. A hundred years later, decadent thoughts are like a gentle melody with a broken string. I used heaven to write down the tender, yellow reappearance, the burning forebrain, the top of Galand, and the untold vicissitudes. Hate is too short to resist lingering love. The gentle eyes you want are my vows full of red dust. Tides talk to themselves, blue and white, deep sea love holds. Before going to bed, I am attached to you, your face and your words for the last time.
Hold a red light, borrow three points and read a volume of feelings. The picture scroll is three feet long, and the affection is three thousands of feet. This scroll is three feet long, deep and tender in thousands of feet. Inch by inch. Pen dyeing, ink immersion pen velvet, velvet wet feeling thick, thick ink fragrance. This pen, paper tears, dust scattered. Wash it away, and the dirt of this life will be washed away for you. This piece of paper, iron pen as silk, winding down the fragrance. Radiant, this candle of life tears with you. I am an ink painter in the world. How does a thick ink turn into a melancholy between smiles? You are a nostalgic guest in the world of mortals. You can't crush the spoony heart of the hero with all your powder. The more perfect, the more riddled. But we really can't look back at the middle paragraph. Neither qualified to be riddled with holes nor qualified to ignore scars. Perhaps, some sadness can only be washed away by time. Picturesque mountains and rivers, proudly clear sky, there is this unparalleled ode.
At first, it was consensual loneliness. Even the flow by the Naihe Bridge can't resist the fiery and love-hate vicissitudes handed down from generation to generation. The sadness of dying beauty, the end of the song, the separation of people, the outflow. In the end, everyone was speechless and indifferent, walking in the loneliness of light all day. Hao's wrist is like snow, smiling like a flower, a flawless lamp, like a monument made of thousands of hectares of glass! Three lives, ten lives, three lives, rise and fall, honor and disgrace, but because of your reason. Clothes are like snow, people are like jade, swords are like rainbows, sleeves are like exercises, residual makeup is gorgeous, and stars and Han people are lonely. A long moment has passed. The Sanskrit is like a wheel. Is it possible for a Buddhist temple to pass through this deep-rooted person? There is no regret in the interweaving of palm prints, and the waiting of a thousand-year-old jade is warm. The only way is to be apart for a long time without feeling sad.
If the memory turns yellow and gently rubs into a wound, if the white dress flutters in an instant, if the woman is just a lily in the night, how can we touch the trace of the time crack and turn it into a scarred wing? I can't forget the gentleness of the daughter of life and death, the brilliance of white clothes, the sadness of acacia like blood and tears, and the sad truth. She is your eternal arrival, your bright smile and your stupid eyes; She is the moment when you are immortal and sleepless; She is your eternal arrival, holding your hand and growing old with your son. That's a joke to cheat the world of mortals. That's the closest thing to eternal yearning!
You can't see birth and death, you can't see your stumbling back after the passage of time, and you can't see the frosty temples carved by time. So many thoughts are just a kind of giving up. The night wind is rustling, looking at the lonely world, looking at the blue horizon and looking at the infinite ancient stone steps. Time has stopped shamefully, the talent displayed mercilessly is flawless, and it is celebrated under the bright moon, which is worthy of the false world of mortals.
If there is love in the sky, it will be old, endless, lingering, involuntary gift, doomed love robbery. One day, I saw the ancient Buddha. I want to ask, what is missing? The ancient Buddha knew what it was like to miss. He looked at generations of idiots, but he didn't understand the charm of this dance. Life is a kind of vicissitudes, or it is whitewashed. Immortal dust washes through the present, and the sobbing gray becomes the master of each other. A hairpin flower, like the rich flower of Buddha Xie, faded into the legendary prosperity, like yesterday, like a lock. The horizon is infinite. The smile in front of Borneo flowers is not old for thousands of years, bypassing the beads ... >>
Question 9: No sad songs. For me, I don't know what "two lovers" means. These poems are from A Dream of Red Mansions and Lin Daiyu's Song of Burying Flowers, which are the representatives of all the sad voices Lin Daiyu made about her life experience. These poems you ask can be explained as follows: now I bury flowers and people laugh at me, but who knows who it is later? One day spring passed and the beautiful woman was old. Youth is gone, flowers are gone, people are gone, and no one knows anyone.
Question 10: I feel sorry for my secret love, which hurts your heart. what can I do? Since ancient times, the beauty is old, the flowers are born early, the color has not faded, and the feelings have been disabled. It is better to feel your kindness to me, but why do I still have a "heart"? Since ancient times, I have been a "beauty" who is prone to sadness, depression and aging; Don't you men like women's touching faces, but you always move on quickly. Forget it, such feelings don't matter.