Prose is a literary genre together with poetry, novels, and dramas. It refers to prose articles that do not pay attention to rhythm, including essays, essays, travel notes, etc. It is the freest style of writing. It does not pay attention to phonology or parallelism. It has no constraints or restrictions. It is also the earliest writing style that appeared in China. The following are eight selected classic lyric prose pieces that I have compiled. Welcome to read! Chapter 1: Late Spring in the Lonely Empty Courtyard
Many years ago, I didn’t recognize the time when I was thinking about Chinese. Just such a short sentence can deeply touch my heart. It's late in spring in the lonely empty garden, and the pear blossoms are all over the ground but the door is closed. The loneliness and sadness of late spring flow quietly in the white pear petals.
Because I was obsessed with such a beautiful sentence, I bought "Late Spring in the Lonely Empty Garden" without hesitation. A poignant and confusing love story, poetry in pear petals. Two people, obsessed with each other for a lifetime, will never see each other again. Deep in the courtyard, my heart is full of lovesickness, and my ice heart keeps the vows in my heart. Love and hate part, spring is getting late.
I have seen some scenes in TV dramas, and with a little more skill, the beauty of the scenes seems to be a bit too much. The overly sensational words are somewhat inconsistent with the implicitness in the novel. Therefore, I am even more fascinated by the state of resentment and infatuation quietly described in words. It felt like a long sunset evening with a strong wind blowing everything up.
Wei Linlang’s second half of life was accompanied by loneliness and an empty garden. However, in this lingering loneliness, there is another person's heartfelt response with infatuated companionship. The tears of loneliness are the desolation of the helpless world, and what is kept in the heart is the promise of a lifetime. He could not see her face for nearly half his life, but he gave her the deepest pain. Spring is approaching late, and the pear blossoms are rustling. Back then, she met Huanyi for the first time by the pool. Nothing is revealed yet. It's just that no one expected that fate would twist and turn and throw away the scattered love in this life.
We sing the flavor of lamentation in this tune. Thousands of years ago, a woman's waiting was a bit sad like a cuckoo crying for blood.
Her talent is admired by future generations, and her beauty and virtue are admirable. She is a confused woman in Jianjia. After the song ends and everyone disperses, they spend a lonely life guarding a person's grave.
It is easy to let down and be let down in this world. Liu Qian was so cruel, throwing this beautiful and intelligent woman into the dust. In this world, the most precious sincerity cannot be seen by him. Spending your whole life chasing and indulging in nothing but nihilistic beauty and pleasure.
But she gave her best youth to this ruthless man. The relationships between people cannot be explained by any reason. After all the warmth passed away, I stayed alone in the deep courtyard alone. Her sorrow and resentment turned into sentences in poetry. In those cold days, the deep affection I once felt was like a tingling pain in my heart. After his face has grown old and his resentment has faded away, guarding his lonely grave, I think more of the tenderness of his youth rather than his indifference after things changed. In the days when I die alone, only those faint past events that have long since dispersed like smoke give me a bright corner that continues to exist in my heart.
Spring is late in the lonely empty garden, and the pear blossoms are all over the ground but the door is closed. I used to be so affectionate, but now I am silent for the rest of my life. Only that story turned into pieces of pear petals floating between heaven and earth. Chapter 2: The first heartbeat
If time sweeps away everything, the last thing left must be a touch of orchid. If love sweeps everything away, the last thing left behind must be the original heartbeat with blue memory.
——Xue Xiaochan
A letter from the spring breeze, I received the first ray of spring in my eyebrows.
Love is always the same. However, Yu Chun's nostalgia is not among the lotuses, nor the stunning white snow in spring, but the first touch of fresh green on the branches. The moment it enters the eyes, it gently touches the dusty fleeting years and the new meandering. , There is a gentle silence in a leaf of freshness.
I miss old things and am attached to them. However, when I accidentally touch the words of the old time, a soft heart cannot withstand the salvage of memories. The deep love in time grows in every plant and tree, and the fragrance floats in the buds waiting to be bloomed. ...
Suddenly I found that time became shallower and shallower, so shallow that everything seemed to reappear yesterday, like a quiet spring dream in early spring: pear blossoms rained down in the place where the mind was dim. In front of the window, the spring breeze brings a wisp of spring love, like a shy flower in the sparse forest, injecting a bit of softness into the thin silhouette of a window. The pear blossom rain outside the window is as light and graceful as before, charming...
Thinking about returning in spring, returning from a dream drunk, how can every object and scene in this dream be different? Isn't it true and false? It turns out that I am still the woman with the freehand pear blossoms, but at this moment, between the lines, a few love petals fell, not a step too early, not a step too late. This is the most beautiful grace in the years!
A deep and affectionate look is like a vivid ripple in the lake of the heart, smearing into a pure and beautiful picture in time. Yingying was silent in the water, and for a moment when we looked at each other, we could touch the gentle brows and eyes in time.
If the secret in the curve of the eyebrows can be extended, can the spring breeze lift up the thin thoughts like cicada wings at the moment of gently lowering the eyebrows?
The spring sky is transparent blue, pure and spotless.
The flowing clouds that were inadvertently dispersed, the free and easy leisure, and the flawless charm decorated the sunny spring scene and added a little calmness to the mood.
What I like most is that the breath of early spring, the fresh vitality, seems to be within reach. The gentle spring breeze in the ears washes away the sultry feelings of spring. Wherever the wind passes, it is the sprouting of flowers in a season, and the rebirth of a bodhi leaf.
Spring is a fragrant season, full of new life and warmth, and the buds on the branches are flowing with unobtrusive brightness. There is no need to trace or write, it is already an irresistible temptation in this spring... …
The most touching part is silent. Walking in the spring light, watching the solitude and blooming quietly, watching each new force grow quietly in the heart, like the most emotional poem in time, generating the clear wind and bright clouds in the eyes.
Still, I am greedy for the courtyard in a time, the breeze is silent, the birds are noisy and the flowers are quiet, there is only a wisp of warm spring feeling, surging in the dark fragrance full of handwriting.
It should be said that all happiness and joy actually come from a simple and quiet life. Even if it gets cold occasionally, I can still rely on the green memory and follow the track of the rain falling on the lake in my heart to find the original heartbeat. If there is someone I can remember, it must be you who is the most affectionate!
The hair beside my ears inadvertently lengthened my longing. I am still in the end of the world you gave me, silently keeping silent for many years, writing my loneliness into a poem without words. Words of poetry!
"In this world, you have to understand its indulgence and evil before you can find a little spring and a little warmth in the weeds and flowers."
Me I don’t know how Xue Xiaochan bloomed an enchanting flower in loneliness. If there is a fifth season in this world, I think she will be the only beauty.
A woman who loves books is quiet, and a woman who writes is lonely. Therefore, she is also beautiful. This kind of beauty is eternally beautiful with the change of seasons. Without words, people are thinner than yellow flowers. Without words, they leave people's hearts. Last autumn, only in the depths of the flowers, harmonious with the breeze, quietly and affectionately!
Reading the books you like, loving the people you like, and doing the things you like must be a taste of happiness. Life is so simple. Only when your mind is like a mirror can you see the green mountains in the distance and taste the clarity of the water nearby.
Spring in the north finally comes a little late. Although it is a joyful hope that the dead tree will turn into spring, it will eventually grow in painful awakening. Only in this way can we usher in the spring that the world has been waiting for for a long time!
How many times do you miss spring in the depths of flowers? A piece of pure white memory, in the light spring scenery, flows with a heart that has nowhere to rest. It is as quiet as ice, but at this moment, it is releasing heat like fire in the heart.
If there is no such thing as love in this world, I will always firmly believe that the fireworks beating at your fingertips will burn wantonly in the spring, and then create the beauty that breaks out of the cocoon, and I will stay where I am. Land, get a surprise across the ocean.
The buds that bloomed in spring became more and more brilliant in the sun. I watched them unfold quietly, then I broke a branch of green willow and planted it in my heart. The spring breeze entered my writing, and I quietly leaned against a pool of spring water. , in time, a tree blooms with the brightness of spring.
My body and mind can't help but be immersed in the song "Secret Fragrance". Perhaps, this kind of love is out of season, and I just want to follow the context of my heart to relive the past. After walking through long mountains and wading across vast rivers, I have captured the most beautiful moments and the warmest attachment in a moment of affectionate glance.
In the end, I finally understood that old times are only suitable for collection, and the deep love in time has always been the first heartbeat between the brows and the heart... Chapter 3: The dance on the fingertips of time
Time is just like the sand on your fingertips, the more you grasp it, the faster it passes. Fenghua is like a finger of quicksand, youth is like a period of time, watching it pass by, but there is nothing you can do about it. When the fallen flowers turn into mud, everything is so peaceful. The unruly youth has also turned into a dream, traveling thousands of miles with the wind, traveling through the world of mortals, but the fleeting time has left no trace, sweeping everything away. If you regard time as an incomparable giant, those youth are the gorgeous dance on the fingertips of time.
We met unexpectedly and walked into the unfamiliar campus. The unfamiliar flower bed, the unfamiliar teaching building, and all the unfamiliar things pulled the originally peaceful heart towards the secular world. The classroom was close at hand, but I didn't move where I was until that figure led me into junior high school life. My thoughts gradually permeated the entire classroom. I tried hard to find traces of the past, but I saw the strange but familiar faces of those in the first grade of junior high school who were so happy and spent so many years. Slowly, I also saw the scene of playing on the playground. Until that ray of setting sun condenses into a mirror. Gradually I understand that this is just a finger of yellow sand, which will eventually blur the scenery.
The vast world of mortals can no longer warm my heart. My eyes narrow into a thin line, wandering in the distant horizon. Only the lonely song echoes in the sky. The deep and shallow traces in those years bear in mind life. Entering the second grade of junior high school, my heart could no longer calm down. A feeling of happiness swept over me, wandering in the void. That fiery figure, that smiling face, that unruly friend, and even the overturned teacher, everything is overflowing with happiness. Thinking of the figure playing every day at that time, the feeling of running wildly on the playground, and the figure teaching on the three-foot podium, my heart has cried.
The dust and smoke are vast, the heart is scarred, the hurried years have taken away the second grade of junior high school, those people and those things have been condensed in my heart, no matter how many years come and go, they cannot be weathered.
The flowers have faded and time has passed. What else can’t be let go? Yesterday's brilliant fireworks, remember the years of the third grade of junior high school, the unforgettable studies, the unforgettable ideals, the unforgettable hard work, everything has become a memory. Every day, hard work can be seen everywhere. The third grade of junior high school should be boring, but the classmates and teachers melted everything with passion and defeated everything with struggle. Looking at the flowers blooming and falling with true feelings, I think of my classmates in the third grade of junior high school and those beloved teachers, and my heart no longer hurts so much, but is as colorful as the spring in the past.
Along the way, we have marked our time, we have cried, we have laughed; we have been decadent, and we have struggled. Many times, when I think back to these things, I can't help but feel a bit of regret in my heart. Flowers are falling all over the ground, and the moon is falling all over the ground. All these are as beautiful as flowers, but it seems like the passage of time. We recall the past, but we can't go back to the beginning. Looking back on the other side, the scene is still so long.
Each of us must remember our youth, but we cannot stay in the past and search for the depth of youth. The sweetness cannot be erased. We lose our youth for a better start. In the future, we may be lonely and confused. Don’t give up. The future is waiting for us. Let us use our swords to wander the prosperous world.
Remember, in our youth, the passion and hard work we had are the driving force that keeps us from falling into the abyss. Don't believe in failure, don't believe in difficulties, think more about yourself who struggled when you were young.
Once again I raised my head and looked up at the sky, looking at the dazzling stars in the distance. The dark night condensed my thoughts that were scattered randomly. The people who once spent the fleeting years with me have gradually passed away, and I am quiet. In the fleeting years, I felt lightly, but accidentally discovered——
That dazzling youth is just like the graceful dance on the fingertips of time. Chapter 4: Standing at the intersection of autumn
Standing at the intersection of autumn, summer is on the left hand and autumn is on the right hand. Half of it is the scorching sun, half is the autumn rain and the other is the coolness, and the other half is vigorous and upward. Half of all things are withering, half of them are anxious, half of this world is stable, half of them are full of green shade, and half of them are green and yellow. The intersection in autumn is actually half and half.
Standing at the intersection in autumn, you must have glimpsed the beautiful scenery of autumn. "Frost leaves are as red as February flowers." I really want to nestle in the embrace of autumn, watch the fallen leaves turn golden yellow, watch the red leaves hanging on the branches, watch the prosperity fade away, and the vicissitudes of time pass by. The colorful autumn is in front of us, but the melancholy of the past is surging in my heart. Although there is joy, it is never as intense as spring. My heart yearning for beauty feels a little tired.
Standing at the intersection of autumn, you will definitely remember the enthusiasm of summer. "The green trees are dense and the summer is long, and the towers are reflected in the pond." The thick green shade can never block the long days, and I spend every day suffering in the heat wave. The lotus pond was full, with lotus leaves squeezing one another, and lotus flowers popping up in the middle, pushing against each other. All things grow to the extreme. In the end, it is like a person who has climbed to the peak of life. No matter where he goes, it is always downhill.
Of course, autumn intersections will not be all desolate and tired, but also warm feelings, warm scenery, warm feelings, and warm hearts. Because of autumn, all things mature and there is harvest. When the grains in the fields return to the warehouse, they will have the confidence to have enough food and clothing; when the leaves are ripe and the fallen leaves return to their roots, the trees have the experience of growth. Autumn cannot be missed in life, otherwise, all efforts will be meaningless. Effort is to gain, and sweat is the nutrition of the fruit.
I thought to myself that flowers will not bloom in the coming year because of the coolness of autumn; water will not wither in autumn and will no longer be abundant in the coming year; trees will not stop being lush in the coming year because of the coldness of autumn. Life is full of vegetation and autumn, and people cannot turn around and become desolate because of the coldness of autumn. Those lost beauties will still appear happily in front of you in the coming year, and no one will need to lament. Even if we reach the end of the world, those old days are still full of charm and charm.
Standing at the intersection of autumn is a threshold for life to move forward. Beauty and ugliness, hard work and giving up are all in the heart. Some stories, whether sad or happy, are just memories and no one can keep them. If you insist on keeping them, it will only add to the burden on your soul. There are some feelings that no one will understand except yourself. Once you meet them, they walk away, disperse, and drift away. The original passion is dried bit by bit, and the leaves fall silently, and you miss them endlessly.
If there is an afterlife, I would like to be a tree. When one leaf turns green, spring is born in the tentacles. When one leaf falls, autumn becomes stronger. As the leaves wither, the wind knows that the wind will take the leaves to the distant place of dreams. The autumn wind sweeps away the fallen leaves, but it sweeps away the appearance of the tree, but it never takes away the longing in my heart. In the coming year, longing will still come out, together with the spring breeze.
Hold on to this life tightly, no matter what, let the autumn wind tear your heart apart, nor can you wait for the next life to know and love each other. This autumn, actually, I don’t believe in the afterlife. Even if, in the next life, a childhood sweetheart tree will grow next to me.
I use the time of autumn to hide my summer love deeply. When the autumn wind takes away the last dead leaf, it must be a memory about you.
When Qianfan is over, I will definitely still remember this autumn’s promise.
Chapter 5: In March, looking at flowers on the street
Time flows quietly, the seasons change quietly, and yesterday's cold winter gradually fades away at a certain corner of the season.
In the spring of March, the willow silk is green, the budding spring feeling, the warm sunshine, the gentle spring breeze, the twittering birds, and the taste of early spring has entered the eyes. The spring breeze blows gently on your face, and all things revive and grow. Why not take advantage of the beautiful time to go to Mo to see a sea of ??flowers and let the fragrance of flowers fill your heart. Walking by the sea of ??flowers, with an excited heartbeat, get drunk into the yellow that penetrates the heart. The rapeseed flowers in early spring cover the fields as far as the eye can see, and a breeze blows, bringing with them wisps of fragrance. The blue sky, sunshine, and golden colors complement each other and decorate the budding earth, making people unable to stop and marvel.
Flowers bloom and fall, one season after another. While the cold winter depresses all things, the rapeseed flowers in early spring wake up the earth early and bloom with passion. It excites life, swaggers with its eye-catching golden color, exudes fresh fragrance, and the dense air heralds the breath of early spring to people with its delicate and magnificent posture.
In the intertwined fields, layer upon layer, overwhelming, golden yellow fills the eyes of tourists and hits their hearts. In this season, yellow is everywhere in the fields. People are excitedly changing into their swimming clothes and walking around the fields. They pick up their cameras and pose with flowers in various poses. Their faces are filled with bright smiles and beautiful faces. flowers. This piece of yellow and this piece of fragrance excites the heart, temporarily forgetting the hustle and bustle of the city, and the heart returns to tranquility, carefree and comfortable in this countryside.
The elegant rapeseed flowers are not as red as in summer. But the golden plain clothes are so pure and elegant, making people linger and reluctant to leave. Lingering and lingering, the impression of early spring is so deeply engraved in my mind. The unique beauty, the magnificent and eye-catching golden color, beautifies the stomachs of bees and intoxicates the hearts of tourists. How many return trips can there be? How many times can we see you again? Flowers bloom and fall every season, disturbing dreamers and leaving them lingering. It is this golden early spring that makes people dream.
In March, let us invite you to go to Mo to see the intoxicating and fragrant sea of ??flowers. Tossing and turning, swaying the golden color of the heart. Chapter 6: How much do you know about falling flowers in dreams
Who is tapping at the heart of memory
Looking back at the unbearable past
Falling red flowers in dreams< /p>
It's just a reading that marks youth
- Inscription
Looking back at the moment, the past has leapt forward in a hurry, and the heart that was too late to defend was once again severely defeated. At the age of thirty, I am already standing on the other side of life. My former youth has become lost. Although the fireworks on the left bank are brilliant, I can no longer look back. Blowing the wind all night, listening to music all night, drinking a cup of lonely tea, one's road will eventually be walked alone. I don’t know where my childhood playmates and young classmates woke up from their dreams, whether they are also walking on the road like me.
The wind blows gently, and I sleep deeply at night. A person walks alone in the moonlight, feeling more like wandering than wandering.
The past you, the past him, the past us, the past third (fourth) class of junior high school and my vocational school classmates, I wonder if everything is fine for you, and whether you still have the smile of yesterday. My best friends Jiang Fuwang, Yin Zhubin, Liu Han and of course Xiaobao, Liangzi, Lao Nao... I think I will never be able to forget you in this life. I don't know if you also think of me like this.
The fleeting years are always sorting out its black hair in the world outside of us, the past has faded, the young hearts are broken, and the most unforgettable thing is the sad appearance of that time.
After closing the epilogue and opening the preface, the story always moves rhythmically through the chapters of life. Everything in the world disappears in an instant, and only memory records them one by one. Keep copying, copying, copying, repeating itself.
The vows of the past, the persistence of the past, the past of the past, the past of the past. On the way of memories, the orange stems are fragrant and elegant, and on the way of thoughts, I am still full of melancholy. The past events over the years are constantly squeezed into piles and drawn into a continuously serialized novel.
Time flies like water, and time flows like water.
The past can be recalled, falling red and rolling into the mud.
In the world of mortals on the road, on the bank of willows, do we still remember the oath made under the camphor tree? Hold a handful of ashes of youth, cling to the long-gone years, and write a wandering for youth. lines of poetry. Chapter 7: Waiting
I miss you so much while waiting, but I am met with overwhelming tears.
Some people say that liking someone is like having stars in your heart, and even the sky that has been dark for a long time seems to gradually light up with the appearance of stars.
The first time I met you, I will always remember your smile. I can't help but look at you one more time, and I can't look away.
Your voice is so gentle that it can melt the snow all winter long, and your eyelashes reflect in your eyes like clear lakes with water plants. Her hair was so soft that even the wind couldn't help but reach out and ruffle it. The outline is softened in the winter, adding a bit of tenderness. But you don't like me, that's too bad. But what's worse is that after I found out about this, I fell in love with you even more.
This may be the meaning of waiting. Because of this, I can become your back and hug you gently at the corner filled with gentle moonlight, so that you will not feel lonely in the long night. It's best to remember me when you're happy, but please don't forget me when you're sad. Because even if I lose the entire universe, I will still be by your side.
It’s not that I have much confidence in love itself, I just know that it is uncontrollable. Just like knowing that a non-smoker can get lung cancer, a lively person can also die unexpectedly. Because it is not eternal. That’s why I love every moment I have now and record it for my future self to tell you, look, if you don’t cry, you will be happy too.
The red light at the intersection after school lasts for 30 seconds. When a person returns home, the elevator has to pass through the 29th floor. It takes one and a half minutes to heat up lunch in the microwave. I often stare at the numbers composed of red horizontal bars for a long time, imagining how great it would be if every wait had such a reminder, even if the person's face is nowhere to be found, even if the return date of your visit has not been scheduled. You can also wait with peace of mind for an answer that will surely arrive. But you are my unknown.
But I do. I also remembered what Han Songluo wrote about Brigitte Lin: "You have to wait, you have to endure, until the spring passes, until the glory subsides, until the thunder lets them go gently, until happiness comes uninvited. Only then can you be sure and calm. . Only then can you smile lightly at the joint. Spring is as good as spring, and spring is as good as the past. ”
Maybe waiting is hard, but you must believe that there is someone walking through the surging crowd. With full enthusiasm, I keep walking towards you, find you, and finally hold your hand, you have to wait. Chapter 8: Early spring, old thoughts
In early spring, the desolation is gradually gone. Sitting in a cup of tea, reflecting on the past, there is still a little lingering entanglement, light, gentle, lingering, and the aftertaste is gone. , but the meaning is deep, the smell of thinking is the flower grave scattered in time. Wherever it is annihilated, it is the waiting for a season of spring. Thinking of the soft spring rain, the first thoughts that flowed through the pure heart, green and astringent, but also tender in the heart, the warmth of you is like duckweed, like the cattails gently crossing the eyebrows, the warmth of the curling Tingting, is spring coming? ?
In spring, old dreams sprout new buds, and dead trees bloom again. They quietly offer a pot of acacia wine to water the other side flower, allowing it to bloom enchantingly and freely. At the ferry crossing of longing, patches of lush greenery are vying to break through the ground. Quietly, a wisp of scenery blooms, turning red and green. The soft greenery ripples with a general sense of tranquility. I talk about it stubbornly and think about a stranded beach in the distance. The ancient rhyme, clinging to the rhyme, left a shadow in the breath of Chun Rui's heart for a moment.
Dip in the richness, leaving a rich ink color, whether it is light or light, or affectionate and thick, with suitable shades, in the early spring of drunkenness and weight loss, the calmness is at home, and the fragrance is like an orchid in the empty valley. The fragrance is self-sustaining. Read through the scenery that passes through the seasons, and life is like a painting of ink and wash. The spring is warm and the flowers are blooming. One stroke is in the heart. Prune the thin branches and dead leaves and keep them between time and life. Whether they bloom or not, they are all warm. One stroke, one red flower. Whether it is the heart of the new moon or the happy face of the full moon, you can chant ink quietly and let your thoughts bloom in the window.
In early spring, old thoughts are warmed up together, walking slowly into spring with quiet steps. Thinking about that dream evokes the warmth of spring, letting the colors of expectation float freely in the mountains and rivers, releasing the pure thoughts of red maples and red leaves, scattering in the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, carrying the old dreams of the past life, every word is written in pearls, and the song is played. In the long pavilion, the zither and flute play in the moonlight, knocking on the waiting door. The sound of fate rises, spring returns, the birds dance happily, the years live in the spring scenery, and once again, I think of you, the poetic and picturesque...
In front of the window, the clear water reflects the shadow, remembering the lingering feelings, the flowers The leaves have not yet opened, the setting sun is silent, the cold wind is silent, and the cool mood is covered. The weather in early spring changes rapidly, sometimes warm, sometimes cold, unpredictable. The feathers have not gone, the spring shirt will not come, and the old thoughts of Wei Lan are here. A stream of poetry and painting. How much hope has been shaken, wandering outside, missing the next wisp of smoke and coolness. This cracking expectation has not changed. The thinness of early spring cannot withstand the cool breeze. Sitting alone, leaving a blank space, thinking alone. ...
Old thoughts warm up the peach blossom crossing, and the notes are ups and downs. The pink memory rides the wind and waves, and the waves are dancing, and the rhymes of Song Dynasty poems are opened, smooth and smooth, and sweet at the fingertips. The peach blossoms are fragrant, with pink petals falling, dancing gracefully, looking for the warmth of a smile. The mountains and rivers, that person and that thing, that year and that month, are already the stories of ancient poems, and Wei Young's deep love... Twisting the flowers gently, the damp paper pages, the red candles with dried tears, this falling petal rain, rush to In the pursuit of life, no matter when and where, no matter how time changes, thinking about one person or one thing has never changed.
Waiting, in the drizzle and breeze of spring, with moistness and indifference, let the waiting flow; waiting, in the bright moonlight of spring, the clear sky is spreading with tender new buds and green branches. The sound of Que Que Qing Ci brings out the old thoughts of the past, and I sing lightly about the aftertaste of Que Que Ci, looking for the love of that life. In the green years, I once again walked in the alley with celadon and white tiles. The clear fragrant stream slowly flowed through the entangled Sansheng stones. The sky at the first break of the tide dropped the agarwood that traveled through time, leaving deep traces of every journey. .
In early spring, old thoughts, waiting quietly, watching Jian Jia silently.
A flower and grass quietly broke through the ground, revealing a touch of green, graffiti with a tone of hope, evoking the beauty of Wanting, painting songs about the past, old thoughts fluttering in the beginning of spring, spring feelings are everywhere, and flowers are blooming and warm in spring. In the graceful and charming room, wisps of warm breeze bring spring, full of warmth, spreading in the eyes of Liuyun, carrying a note of thoughts, let this love flow through the years, and reach the long-cherished wish of Hongdou in the South.
In early spring, old thoughts, windy expectations, witty words slowly sing the spring scenery, and the bamboo curtain of wandering dream shadows boils ink in a handful of broken pieces, letting the old thoughts that have stood for a long time, along a stroke of spring Let’s go sailing across thousands of mountains and rivers in the spring!