One side of the landscape is maple red, and the other is autumn dew. Listen to it. The sky of countless nights moistens the light of the stars, dyes the autumn colors of maple leaves, and vicissitudes the fleeting time of flowers. Listening to the gorgeous bloom, I miss the late autumn.
Sit quietly by the window lattice, read a book, read a volume of poetry and enjoy a chrysanthemum. Look at the cold window of time in the clouds, experience the cold old dust in the rain and fog, and know the depth of the ferry in the turbid waves. Freeze the moment's wind and rain, embellish the words into beautiful flowers, fragrance the ends of the earth, and cherish the years.
A bright moon at dawn, several westerly winds. In the bustling world, Changfeng rolled up Jing Ya in Chun Lv, caring for a soft heart, smearing a beautiful picture on a pure white notebook and swaying clouds smartly. Listen, the beautiful four-leaf clover blooms in the heart, and the magical bodhi tree grows in the heart. Missing one ink is a poem, and the true feelings of a light pen are fragrant in the heart.
Rain knocked on the bamboo case, and infatuation fell off. In the depths of a quiet dream, the yellow light of Wu Peng canoe was ferried, leaving a warm rain flower that swam with the water. Far autumn, far morning, far frost, far leaves; Love, love, lover, love years. If you have love, you will understand, and the warmth will follow you.
On the shore of the water, there are pink butterflies. A wisp of heart, full of a smile. I can't give up my true feelings, sow the romance of the world of mortals in thousands of tender feelings, and embrace beauty in the inkstone pool of Chun Lv. Pick a touch of heart lotus, wrap it between your fingers into a show, listen to the dark blue whisper, amazing years, gentle time.
A bunch of long hearts are in full bloom in the clear water and blue sky. Listen carefully, a bright moon shines on bloom, and flowers fall in bloom. There is a pleasant wind and rain hidden in the clouds, splashing a picture of Jiangnan. The geese return to the sky, and the moon is full of clouds and water, like a poem. A touch of missing, like being intoxicated, like a quiet time.
Listen, the camellia is raining, and the life among the flowers is faint. A wisp of Zen incense blooms eternal kindness; The book is curled up and listening to the breeze in Foshan. Miss you, but hope that time will flow away and the years will be fragrant; A meditation, just for the mind ferry, peace of mind.
Listen, miss. The wandering Chinese dream fell to the ground. Pick up a fragment and hide it in your heart. Looking back, smile, drip into ink and draw an outline. Hidden in armor, the grass is boundless, and a feeling of shyness is heavy, and the wine is silent and warm. On the other side of bloom, this shore is fragrant. A touch of blue light shines on the face, condensing the loneliness of the years in a hundred turns. Listen to the ticking of the clock, it will become a kind of sadness.
Clouds and winds blow, and the waning moon hangs obliquely. Deep impressions, dreams come and go. A love comes from fate, and a drop of water comes from fate. The wind, flowers, snow and moon are gone, and sorrow and joy sigh. The road of the four seasons, the day of reincarnation. Listen to the bead curtain, pear flowers bring rain, and blue flowers are bitter; Faint thoughts, floating world, world of mortals ...