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It has been four years since I dreamed, and time is like a lotus.
The cold wind outside the window is chilly, accompanied by faint songs, and my heart is disheartened, and my eyes are full of tears.
Hongyan from Nanfei sent me the news that you are about to enter the marriage hall. Your tearful heart can't tell whether it is good news or bad news.
I have been begging in front of the Buddha for 500 years in order to meet again.
I still remember that it was the season in bloom. You hurried by, with sweet love words on your lips, but you forgot to look back.
Since then, life has become interesting and worthy of attention, although it is illusory.
Knowing that there is no result, why bother to reinvent the wheel, hurt your heart and break your lovesickness?
But still in countless nights, I can only look up and count the cold stars, waiting hard.
Women are always stupid, knowing that they can't wait for the result, but they still choose to stick to it. This is the only support of life. There are too many unlucky men in the world. Maybe they can't find a snuggle in this life, but they are still persistent.
Chen Pu dyed a thick ink, but it can't save your unique turn.
When you wake up in a dream, all the happiness is almost gone. There are shallow fine lines that stop at the corner of the eye and brow, smudging your casual silhouette in the world, and writing a few pen and ink rhymes in Cang Sang. In those dreams that have been touched and broken again and again, tears for you.
I thought you would come back after you left, so I am willing to wait as long as possible. I thought a moment was like a thousand years, but a thousand years was just a moment. Now, what I have been waiting for is such a result. How can my heart be happy again?
The slender lotus pond woven in the dream, blue skirts flying under the blue sky, raises gentle dreams in the beautiful China year.
Under the breeze and the full moon, after waiting for many cycles of infatuation, the ice condenses into a drop of rouge tears and splashes beautiful blooming petals. In the vague shadow, who is sighing in a low voice and floating a curtain of sadness in the wind?
Who turns into a song in the water mae, I am guarding this magnificent lotus flower, swaying in the shallow drag, and showing my slim figure lightly. The dream that has been brewing for several years is fragmented in the fleeting time.
We've been apart for so long that I forgot what you looked like. The shadow in my heart is not you, but an illusion of me. I don't even know this illusion.
Who carved the appearance of annual rings on a windy night? I can't tell which round is the scar you walked through. Start with the wind and look for it. That ancient desolation brushed your indifferent eyebrows. Is that you, calling in the dark, like a sharp knife piercing the heart? For an instant, it seems that I have experienced a previous life. I have experienced such a heartbreaking pain, and I have been guarding this shore and never giving up.
Water under the bridge. There is no way to steal the ending, and no one can know what you are thinking. So dusty, pour out all unforgettable thoughts. This feeling, I collect it alone, and I don't see the sun until it erodes into ashes and blows away, leaving no trace. From then on, all the glitz that passed by was just a lens of nothingness.
Locked memory, can life really be just an illusion? I'm sure this is just an illusion. Those scars will definitely disappear, in the corner I will never touch. In time and time again, I will eventually fall asleep.
Desire is so beautiful that it is easy to fail in the end and can't stand the expectations of spoony people. The man in Yi Xi has gone, leaving only the illusion of a river caught by Hongyan. It's beautiful.
On a moonlit night, there is always a deep complaint about how this life is so unlucky that it is difficult to interpret fate as fate. Let me cry hysterically in the empty valley of the years, and you will always disappear at the end of the wind and smoke.
I hate not meeting early, but when I get married physically. Life is as thin as paper, or is it too late for reincarnation?
Attached:
Huanxisha (Pingshuiyun, Shang Ping Four Branches)
The crows are scattered, the spring breeze is close to the snow, and acacia is out of thin air.
I deeply regret my late reincarnation. I am sad about life like tissue paper. I hate not meeting and not marrying.
Four years in Guangxi, 24 o'clock in winter.