It's like a long-lost voice. Maybe the dream of a lifetime is exchanged for a sentence. It has been a thousand years of wind and rain outside the door, and it will never return. Tears ask flowers silently, and red flies over the swing.
Laughter can solve thousands of worries? Singing to wine, the injured flute is playing in the wind, and the night breeze is blowing gently. Just stay for a while, the wood rustles, and I want to talk about it. The waves are rough, fame and merit, dust and dirt, and a piece of pure land blocks the wind. Watching the flowers silently, watching the clouds fall in Yun Qi and the flowers fall in bloom, that's all. Sometimes go to the end of the water to seek the source, or sit and watch the ever-changing clouds rise. Where were those lost times before me? Behind me, where are the future generations? I think of heaven and earth, there is no limit, there is no end, I am alone, my tears fall down. Tonight, I am outside the misty haze, among the flowers and trees, reading ancient prose, reciting poems, with a classical charm, smoky, the air filled with tea fragrance, intertwined notes, and my words become fragmented. With the notes, I walk in the wind, and my thoughts wander in the cold night sky.
How many times in the autumn wind, I meditated on the color of memory, and the memory floated in the air in the sandy moonlight and scattered in the scattered light and shadow.
The poet is gone, and the poem is withered, but there is only poetic rhyme, which breaks the wind and fills the sky. Brilliant spring, hot summer, cold autumn and cold winter, Byakki Smoker's shadow is fading, and her thoughts are still like a bud. After many twists and turns, she sealed the past but had no choice but to recall it. After all, she couldn't resist her beliefs, but she still didn't complain or regret. She still fills the emptiness with bright smiles, complicated trifles and some words, and still feels Yan's "a song cries out, a girl is black, and a fleeting time is changing" in the dark night. Hiding in a fog, let us call for a long time, but it is silent.
Night cries dusk forest, flying flowers scattered, why so easy to fall into the dust? Aren't you attached to misty rain in Jiangnan and misty rain in West Lake? Scattered in the empty debris, although the sideburns are not so frosty, they are already full of faces. Zhuangzi said, "When the spring is dry, the fish are on the ground and wet with each other. Don't forget each other in the rivers and lakes, "just, how to forget each other in a philosophical way? Broken peach blossoms are red all over the floor, and at a glance, they fly into the smoke.
All the way to the river, I can't cross greed and love. Silent suffocation. The wind is full of sighs. The red-violet on the earth is still in full bloom, scattered into mud and ground into dust. Who would have thought that falling into dust would haunt the sand for generations? If you are sad, the dream is still there. At that moment, I smashed the petals in my hand. Leave a lingering and regretless concern, just like the twisted wire when laughing at lotus root, until the world of mortals grows old. In the morning, with dew and grass, it is surrounded by dim light. Become a passer-by, a passer-by, just to find Iraqis. What is Iraqi? Missed the season, missed the bloom flowers, wrong at this time.
The passage of time takes away a lot of beauty, even before we feel it. Wandering butterflies, with dreams, wander between this mountain and that mountain and between cities. The song comes from afar, and the mood is music, accompanied by the sky.
The mood of falling into the water is not old. Cold air, light rain and light smoke turn into faint sadness in the air of the ravine, sniffing the elegant breeze outside the window and feeling the heavy breath of the years. I saw time whizzing by, leaving only a wisp of dust to annihilate the beautiful past. Mourn for youth with all the fallen leaves, and listen to a call. Falling flowers will open a mixed season, with joy and sadness, expectation and disappointment, vitality and decline. In this way, a person, grazing the distant flute in the wilderness alone ... The cold of Feng Gang has changed my appreciation in the fleeting bitterness. Forget yourself, where is it, open a small red note ... listen to distant songs ... watch the smoke curl up ... daydream in loneliness ... ask how much sadness you can have. ...
Luanhong
Text/lost ballads
Who played the melodious flute, awakened the late summer garden after a nap, and blew the red and colorful! Looking back on the past, the light-dyed love thread between your eyebrows gradually broke under the picking of years, which made people burst into tears and their cheeks rounded ... I bent down to pick up the red flowers in the garden, but I couldn't pick up the clouds reflected behind you, only seeing the swing in the crimson rain, struggling in the wind as always!