Source: American sentences written by modern people, whose author is unknown.
The sorrow of reeds is the lingering fragrance of flowers. People in Nagato don't call it Qing Palace, but it's better than the cold river. Don't ask, remember to solve the problem, especially the ancient kings didn't love each other deeply, it was difficult, and love and hate were unfinished. Being infatuated with the moon, singing without disorder, quietly leaving regret, not being lonely, and dreaming without returning are also Zen in this life. Rouge doesn't hide beauty, Tao is sorrow, not dew, two feelings can't stay, lovesickness can't go away, and flowers are indifferent.
Full-text translation: There is a sad smell in the reed flowers, and the fragrance of weak flowers is everywhere. The workers in the palace didn't call out, just like the cold of the river in autumn. Don't ask me, memories are hard to dissolve. Perhaps it is too difficult to have a deep affection for the king since ancient times. Love and hate are not over yet. Sorrow turns into love and sings to the moon. When feelings are deep, you are not lonely, and your dreams are endless. This is probably what I need to think about in my life. No amount of rouge can hide the beauty's aging. Sorrow is like dew. Two people love each other deeply, but they still can't keep each other. Acacia can't be eliminated. They can only watch the flowers bloom and decline.
Similar sentences:
1, faint plain sound, thick Mo Yun, elegant words, full of secular feelings; Long years, fragrant teas, unique cups and lamps, full of poetic elegance; The clouds are light and the wind is light, holding tea, clever notes and singing warm words; Spring flowers and autumn moon, red dust and flying thoughts spread all over the seasons like songs. Thinking about this life, the wind and smoke are fleeting, holding hands in the world of mortals, getting along day and night, and setting the word for love. Two people depend on each other, like flowers, you are my only warmth, undeniable, and the bustling lips are lingering. That day, the sky was gloomy, just like my mood. Stepping on broken sadness, my eyes are frosted, the wind blows, and the cold remains. Close your eyes, I can't remember your complete smile, the Millennium red dust, and at this moment, my world began to snow.
2, the beautiful image has been sold, and the guest has broken the bridge; The paper umbrella is thin and the clouds are miserable. I'm drunk in the western suburbs, and I want to play the flute. I am sad when I am clear, and I am proud all my life. Tears shook the candle. Time flies, cockroaches have been covered with autumn wormwood. Su Mu Gai, singing wine and composing songs in the Red Chamber; Yu Meiren who carved and danced; Drunk flowers, cold and lonely; Golden wisps of music, how many volumes float and sink; Partridge days, staring at past lives ... misty rain gradually disappears, Leng Yue lead slightly shallow, how to pity and sleep.
3, cook a glass of wine, warm the frozen heart, and drink the vicissitudes of life; If you close a window, you can't hide your sadness. Who is still singing at the end of the cloud curtain? Cut a lamp and cross the red makeup in the sky. Are you still the same as before? When you wake up from a dream, there is nowhere to hide loneliness. Do you miss it as much as I do?
4, lovesick tears deep, and heaven remains our neighbourhood. A wisp of leaves is falling in the autumn wind. The ocean of suffering is endless. How can you look back at Qian Fan? How can you look back and look back and feel sad? Looking at the distance of a thousand years, clinging to memories, at the end of reincarnation, I can never say goodbye to see who was crushed by lonely vicissitudes, who hid my thoughts and buried my last tear after a thousand years of sadness?
5. If the wine is cold, it will be the West Chamber. Carving mandarin ducks on the jade screen, sitting on the bronze mirror with yellow decals, thin lips and dark clouds, and teasing the plane leaves for three nights. Backhand pipa, full moon in the west wing, velvet snow on the sleeve. The soul is still drunk, and the willow withered by the river. When the prosperity is gone, don't look, waiting for someone to turn back.