How many people have loved the images of your youth and your beauty, with hypocrisy or true love, but only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the traces of time on your sad face. In the ancient style, time is beautiful, and in time, the ancient style is quiet and beautiful. The following is the relevant information of classical beautiful articles that I have compiled for your reference! Classical beautiful articles Part 1: A thin piece of paper locks deep love
I met and fell in love with you, but I didn’t know that I was praying in front of the Buddha. How many lives. Finally, Buddha took pity on my heart and allowed me to finally meet you at this moment. Maybe all this is the arrangement of Buddha. Otherwise, how could two hearts from far and wide collide? For the hard-earned relationship that I have gained in these lifetimes, I am willing to turn into a flower under the window and plant my thoughts into a forest while waiting foolishly. In the forest, the sound of a thousand-year-old ancient harp is caressed. Carrying my full feelings, I will accompany the sun and the moon, and the wind will send them to you, and I will walk through one beautiful season after another with you.
Looking back, our love is still romantic. The Garden of Eden in the dream quietly flies over the fence of the soul and stays in the hazy space. Heart, wandering in the sea of ??love, intoxicated. The ancient clock quietly rotates around the world, and between the fingers of the passing years, we cherish the touches of the years. How many times have I dreamed that my love has fallen into the water and fallen into the grass, rolled down into dewdrops, and smiled brightly?
In the long journey of life, the looming waves in the clothes have stirred up a lot of dust. Looking for you, how many reincarnations? Missing you, how many days and moons? The image fixed in the world of purple will never fade away. Intoxicated by the first-quarter moon and the last-quarter moon, I lost myself unknowingly.
Everything is still as clear as yesterday. I am that ancient white birch tree in the forest, surviving here only for the unfulfilled love that will last for thousands of generations. A wave of leisurely sorrow flows in a pavilion with plain clothes, showing lovesickness and love. The mottled years are drifting away, intoxicated by your familiar eyes in the past life; I have poured out the love from the past life and this life, and I am intoxicated by your every gentle call.
Left at the desk, worried about writing. Along the world scattered with ink, follow the dream. Looking back thousands of times on the lingering love of several lifetimes, only the pen and ink allow us to know each other. Thousands of miles apart, even the fish and geese holding the red paper in their hands are hard to care for. He just let the storm hit him blankly, trying to get rid of the feeling of powerlessness in the face of fate.
The pebbles were polished smooth and smooth by the flowing water, but in its heart it still dreamed of being full of edges and corners. The rain leaves a permanent mark on the night, making those things that once became forever. The sadness and joy derived from this also add a bit of desolation, and the emotion painted in ink is a gaze I shouldn't have. No pen can describe my sorrow vividly. Even if a hundred flowers bloom, in my eyes it is not as beautiful as your health.
Looking back suddenly, it feels like a lifetime ago. The night rain spirit picks up the vague eternal pain. If there were no tricks of fate, the wishes made in front of the Buddha would not be so tragic. My dear, none of us are wrong, right? Thousands of years of emptiness have failed to dilute the memory deep in the soul. Amber in dreams makes love more beautiful, and the passage of time can only make it more charming?
When migratory birds fly over the sea, shells can only wait quietly on the beach for their return. figure. Knowing each other and cherishing you, I turn the butterflies in my heart from my past life into a breeze in this life, waiting for you every day with you. In this way, let me read you day and night, and embed this memory in the annual cycle of my life.
The night is silent, and the shadow is lonely against the green lantern. The wind is rustling, the rain is ringing, and the parasol leaves are lingering. The morning light appears and the sky is blue. Looking more closely, spring swallows are flying in the clouds. Whispering, the peach and plum smiles, and the dew becomes more crystal clear. The butterflies are dancing, chasing and playing, and sniffing the red eagles together. Why did you wish? Wait until the wind blows away and drift with the water. On the bank of the moon lake, the flowing water flows, and the plain clothes cannot resist the breeze. Yun Hongchen, I promise you infatuatedly. The red paper is displayed, and the blue birds compete for it. One part lovesickness, one part deep affection, two parts drinking wine. I am writing, the ink on the cloud platform is dyed, where are the birds of prey frightened? Suddenly I smile, why should I be sad, my heart is the king's heart? Classical beauty article 2: Prosperity ends, but the pure heart remains
The light smoke curls up, the moon Ascend to the East Mountain, a volume of pure poetry can recite the emotions of three lives, express a gentle and lingering song, count the falling flowers in detail, the prosperity fades, but the sincerity remains.
The moonlight is clear and shining for thousands of miles. I sit by the window and refill a cup of tea. The faint aroma wafts out, washing away the breath of sorrow deep in the soul.
It was a clear and quiet night, but I was speechless. In such a quiet night, the flowing sound of the piano and the little bits of thoughts are floating in the air.
Alone, unable to sleep, only light ink marks on plain paper remain. The soft voice coming from the ears is both real and illusory, ethereal, like a song of departure from the sky, echoing in the room?
Whispering a love word, writing a line of love. Love is like ink blue and white, why fear the moment of youthfulness. Long dreams, I have seen too many joys and sorrows, sorrows and farewells, just like the changing breath. Along the way, I have been let down, and I have ignited hope and searched for answers. No matter how happy the past expectations are, the current regrets will be long.
In the process of growing up, you are rushing and busy, stumbling and bumping, rushing and being careful, tired and troubled. In life, what have you left behind, and what have you gained? You have been trying to be strong with your mouth, but your heart is not that strong. Because there is kindness in your heart, you choose to forgive; because you have thoughts in your heart, you choose to tolerate.
We will always be obsessed with beautiful poems and songs. Perhaps, when we no longer run for the world, when we give up the pursuit of wealth and fame, we know how to seek peace and tranquility in ordinary things. It’s also a beautiful thing. The small bridges, misty rain, and dark-walled pavilions all smiled at me in my imagination, carrying their artistic conception and the unique classical elegance on their arms as they returned. The limitations of the body cannot restrain the dancing of the heart, and the tranquility of the mind exaggerates the peace of the heart. Time flies by, and the years pass by, and the smile is light.
The prosperity remains as before, but the people are no longer the same. Where is my refuge on the road of growth? The long road of life, passing by in a hurry, who was whose past? Some encounters, in the mutual understanding and cherishment, get closer and closer; an understanding, in the indifference to each other, will gradually fade away Far.
There are many stops in life, and people with a peaceful heart, whether they are standing outside the world, quietly admiring the prosperity, or in the world, tasting all kinds of flavors, will more or less have a long-lost calmness. feel. I have always believed that as much love as there is, there will be as much warmth as possible.
Being one with the dark night, I also feel its loneliness and sadness, and I can’t help but burst into tears. I know that these tears are born from the emotion in my heart. I never realized that the experience of this life would make me feel so nostalgic!
Looking through the traces left by time, I feel that the sun and the moon are flying by, and everything is in a hurry. Perhaps, the most beautiful charm has long been missed. Whether it is thoughts in leisure time or confusion in sleep, in short, everyone has some kind of entanglement in their heart, deep or shallow.
The horseshoes clatter, I am not a returnee, nor am I a passerby. Stepping through the thoughts of flowers and experiencing a cycle of reincarnations, no matter how far-fetched the heart is, it will be softened and beautiful. For now, hide the confusion in your heart and hope that you can use this little bit of pure beauty to accept all the beautiful things. Yes, in this life, there are too many things waiting for us to cherish and wait for.
Encounter a quiet cloud dream, listen to the Zen language of a flower, and understand the origin of life. The flowers bloom with emotion and the flowers fall without intention, just because the flowers bloom and wither in Zen philosophy, just like a dream in the world of mortals, where dilemmas continue.
The sound of the piano keys is as real as in a dream. The bustle fades away and everything finally becomes peaceful. The prosperity has come to an end, the love is attached, the sincere heart is still attached, and the world is beautiful? Classical beauty article 3: The night traveler writes ink, and the hateful words hurt the words
The old friend resigned and the dream ended in the sky, and the night was broken and the shadow was gone. No sleep. His eyes are hesitant, his feelings are hard to break, and he is complaining with sorrow, but there is no sound. Thousands of miles of moonlight, I am also drunk and dreaming of singing, drinking wine and enjoying myself, and I can only rest after a dream. Is love lasting forever? This sutra is drunk and carefree; I don’t know where the dreams of the past and present are going, there is no hope of return, and my heart is empty and full of dreams. The two sides of the Taiwan Strait are as far apart as the world, and I feel sorry for myself.
There is no wind in the lonely night, and the moon is like a shadow. Pour a glass of wine and feel relaxed. So go with the wind and no longer be attached to it. A sigh of relief in the world of mortals seems like a thousand years, a journey of mist and rain covers the love, love is in love, love is in love, how can the beauty know? I am also happy with it, but I am happy that it makes me sad. When will the moon shine? It's just a matter of time. The mood is silent, and the ink has been used for thousands of years. The thin words are like clouds and smoke, and the way of heaven only hurts.
When fate comes and wishes come, fate passes away, like clouds and smoke, sighing without need, like dreams and thinking about dreams, but I am passionate, the wind and moon are fading, the lonely shadow is long, recalling the past, the dream is still the same as before. Love is constantly missing, bitter tears in the world of mortals, first love, dependence on each other, the earth is old, and the sky was once desolate. If the oath is true, why are two lovers separated for a long time? I sigh at the moon, and the hateful words are endless, and it is difficult for two lovers to rely on each other.
A dream in the world of mortals is like the dawn of beauty, with constant tears of lovesickness. After thousands of reincarnations, there is a stream of water in the Forgotten River. The water reflects the remaining hair on the temples, and the hair on the temples is white.
Old friends are gone forever, thousands of sails have passed, songs are broken, plots are torn apart endlessly, there is no need to complain about eternal hatred, lingering love is long and broken, calling, deep thinking, ripples and fluctuations, deep love trickling into the sea.
How long does it take to miss lovesickness? Passionate love is like an empty dream. The sadness of separation pulls my hair to pieces, time passes by, and the shadows of time pass by in a hurry. Smiling peacefully, with constant tears, how many times have I searched for you? But where can the swamp and water merge together? This is the end of the world. Lovesickness dyes the dusk, and a lonely shadow returns late at night. How much yearning, how much sadness, how much affection, just like passing away with the wind.
The lights are brightly lit, and we are drunk with each other. Tears fill the beauty, dance pens sad words and hate ancient sentences, the tall buildings are empty and the city is empty, the star fire and the Milky Way shine in the heart and the moon, the song of separation ends, the wind rises again, the song ends and the wind passes away, the cold hollow heart, during the separation period, when will we meet again, the dream returns to the soul and You are so lingering. Tonight, lonely and widowed, I invite the bright moon to drink wine, it is like meeting each other in a dream, a good time and a few nights, a gathering of sorrow and joy.
Traveling in the clouds, I don’t know where I’m going. I forget my deep memories and don’t remember the spring flowers and autumn moon. I am a lost fish, I have a thousand words and a hundred fragrant green grasses, I am in love with butterflies, I miss my family with love dreams and tears? I lean on my solitary words and frame my tears. Time has passed, and the strange road is prosperous. When will we meet again? I stir up the Spring and Autumn events, I miss you, and there is no good news from the past.
Flowering season on the shore, reincarnations come and go again, the water of the River of Forgetfulness passes away to the east, the wind howls in the night dream, the melons, frogs and cordyceps croak. We hugged each other in the past, just like yesterday, weeping and laughing. The traces have returned to the clouds and there is no return. Where can I find the flowering period? I am reserved and alienated, and drunkards increase my sorrow. How can I not waste yesterday? The memory hurts.
The old friend disappeared without a trace and roared drunkenly. As far away as a leaf of a boat, accompanied by ripples of water, there is a turbulent green water village road, passing by the Yi Zhong Station. Crossing the sky without waiting, I raised my head and listened to the wind blowing the willow leaves, and the branches dancing with the leaves, which made me feel separated from my love and sad to dream. If you pick up the pen and send a letter, when will you hear good news? If you use the pen to rain down any proof.
The blue waves and grass are as deserted as the sea. I live in a secluded valley. How could I know that the weeping willows and their dreams are gone? The setting sun sets in the distant thatched cottage, resting on the shore, whispering tiredly. At dusk, the setting sun is approaching, and the afterglow reflects the light deep in the dusk forest, and Kunfei dances in harmony with the light. But Tianwang and his long-awaited return boat are close to his hometown. His father and mother are in tears, and his son is distressed.
Tears fall from the world to heaven, and we look at each other in the vastness of life and death without forgetting each other. But I am drifting in the rivers and lakes, my breasts are full of blood and tears wash away the dust, my desolate heart is desolate and my body is desolate, I am proud and determined, the wind blows and I whisper, I sing a few verses, there are guests in the clouds, there is no one in the wind, the night fades with tears of beauty, the green valley is quiet , I have the old dream about you, how can I send the letter back with just a wave of ink?
The world is changing with the stroke of the pen, the wind and ink are attached to people, the lovesickness is nothing, the melancholy is deep, and the face is full of mulberry and is not the person in the ink. Standing high in the building, there is wind on the balcony, there is no joy in the wind and rain, in the distance, as far as the end of the world, the night watch is windy and cold, my thoughts stain the city sky, I write a poem, a short poem, a poem about my thoughts, and I have no clue about everything. The river flows eastward, and the wind is so hot that it is an old friend in the mirror.
The words know the meaning, and the hateful sentences become hurt and the ink knows the meaning. Guests dream of returning to the countryside to see the dew of love and flowers. On the night of departure, they listen to sorrow and heartbreak, and their burning eyebrows gather together. I have hated the world of mortals all my life, and I am even more speechless, looking at each other in dreams and in vain.
The lingering night of the broken rain in Suzhou is full of poetry. The lonely dance, the lonely morning and evening. Tonight, I use my pen and ink to drop the words and sentences. The wind guest in the depths loses his soul at night, and listens to each other at night after his soul is broken. Sorrow.