Looking at the fence with your eyes open, the graceful grass covers the secluded path, the wind is lonely and tight, and the mountains are locked up, and the shadows are desolate. Empty eyes, speechless, red and green, when flowers wither and have no interest?
A few pieces of red flowers drift with the tide, and the East is gone forever, shaking like rotten peach blossoms yesterday, people's shirts are slightly red and drunk, and Xu Lai is full of fragrance and forgets to go home.
Drunk peach blossoms forget the present, Yan Yingqing, but what about her childish words? Let bygones be bygones and hate each other later. Zheng rings, flowers greet songs, qu hong is elegant and evenly powdered; Song ci is relatively beautiful, with flowers and fragrance floating, and it is getting better and better. Deep thrush, shallow appearance, people drunk peach blossoms, wind flowers rippling, Yan language warbler singing, beauty dancing, light dance shy, drunk shame, half face shy, spring and beauty rely on each other.
Hand in hand in the spring, I made a promise before the flowers, even if the flowers in bloom fall, I will never give up in this life, and I will be with you in this life, willing to be the green mud next year and continue every year.
Flowers are similar year after year, and people should be the same year after year, but once the flowers fly away, they are abandoned and ignored. Flowers are getting thinner and people are haggard. Now the warm wind is blowing, flowers are dying and water is drifting. People are speechless, but they are as thin as flowers, but they are as beautiful as flowers, and they are idle with tears. Neither of them knows.
At the end of the song, peach blossoms are dyed red in spring, and scattered pear blossoms bleach the years. Time flies through the long willow bank, rippling, the wind hurried home, and the water rippled again.
Peach blossom thinking, pear blossom thinking, knowing that peach blossom faces follow Iraq, and saying goodbye to pear tears with Iraq. The season in bloom is like an empty dream. I started this most beautiful encounter and wrote down this sad miss.
Only with peach blossoms, not pear blossoms, blooming is beautiful, but it is difficult to fade. Once it is opposite, it will be difficult for the rest of my life.
It's summer in the spring dream. It's easy to get together and get away. What's wrong with flowers? Touching the scene, dribs and drabs, always makes people sad and unbearable. It's hard to forget the past, but I hate different flowers, but I can't laugh at them. Flowers fall and fall in the evening.
Tonight, on the east wall of the moon string, the phoenix tree is sparse, like mottled shadows, deeper and more difficult to sleep, wandering in the secluded path, obsessed with flowers, like a dream empty flowers, speechless and then turning to flowers, independent, lonely and desolate, unable to bear to look at flowers, pick up a few arguments, ask flowers sadly, flowers should understand, but in different languages, only fragrance remains the same.
Dimfragrance was yesterday, and the flowers look today, but why do you want to ask? Flowers are different from people, nobody asks, people are different from flowers, and people forget each other. Flowers and people should be the same, smile every day, people and flowers should be the same, and meditate every night.
Zhu Yan is sad, like a flower, and her dream is like a flower. Flowers are empty dreams, rotten flowers, withered flowers, and turned into mud, all of which are empty, taking away the glorious years and never coming back. At the end of people's silence, a wisp of fragrance wafted, laughing like a peach blossom in March, the residual flowers withered, and tears like pear flower falls in May. At first glance, this flower seems to be out of love, and a dream is like a flower withered and turned into a mud dream.
Before the flower, the dream returns to the empty sleeves, before the wind blows the bottle down, the flowers wither and cherish each other, and the clouds sit in front of the court. All kinds of past events are like flowers, and an empty acacia dream turns into spring mud to protect flowers.
Is that okay?