That late autumn evening, the sky was gray, like a teenager's mood, leaving only endless despair. "Why on earth are you going?" My ears seem to think of her questioning again and again, but I can only answer her sigh again and again, but because of the long sigh, her eyes are so hopeless this morning. It was also in this morning that he realized that the original phoenix eyes, which were always full of hope, joy and self-confidence, lost their spirits and were so sad and moving. How can he bear to watch it again?
I don't know when the rain stopped, and the drops of water left on the account splashed along the felt cloth. For a time, the grass was in full bloom with glittering and translucent spray, and the sound was endless. The young people in the tent looked at the pale curtains, reflecting the girl's long white face. Delicate eyebrows, full of autumn water, if the skin is solidified, red hair is messy, smile.
The cold wind blows, the willow leaves blow, blowing out the soul of the sunset and the fragrance of the water in the wild grass pool. Lonely coast, emotional curtain. After the rain, cicadas sing more sadly, with the helpless sadness of rolling water.
Silk thread, eyes are misty rain; Dripping, playing is a quiet mood. Winter passed and spring came. How many beautiful dreams have sprouted in the world on this drizzly night? ...
Rain, wet is not only a memory, but also a song that echoes in the fate of life. Drink wine to relieve sorrow, three cups and two lamps, wine is not intoxicating, forget your heartbreak, forget how to cry, and spring is misty. ...
Obviously, a tear fell from your eyes and dropped into the collar of your robe ... suddenly, my eyes became blurred. The only thing I can do is to hold your hand tightly and feel your temperature over and over again. The waves of time washed away the traces left by the ground and dripped over the stones with profound vows.
When the fragrance dies without pity, the petals of residual fragrance fall in lonely thoughts, and the last scene of gorgeous turn is extremely extravagant.
Finally, the song is over. When love dies and dreams are gone, it is heartbreaking and sad. I can't hide the cold flowers, the tears of resentment, and I am completely lost in the bloody underground. The Zen rhyme is light and half moon, and the wind is light and the night is cold.
You can't send it full of lovesickness, but it's empty for homesickness.
The sadness of blowing in the wind's past, the sweet eyes in the lonely night, the broken stars and the gentlest dance steps are all the tears-free sadness in the deepest part of my soul. Emotions can always settle down in such a silent moment. After such noise, the suffocating atmosphere in the polar region can only be appreciated, broken into pieces, and fall into beautiful stories with magical beauty and dreams, so lonely and sad.
It is also a dream, dreaming that I am wandering in a long alley-a light gray alley in the drizzle. In the depths of this alley, I will meet you like lilacs, and your simple dress will enliven the dignified gray around me. We are speechless. Our eyes penetrated the confused rain and fog and met in the quiet air of the alley. At the moment we met, we clearly saw the sadness and sigh in each other's eyes ... When I closed my eyes, it sounded like rain, like the footsteps of your arrival or departure, echoing in the winding and empty gray rain lane.
This is also a dream. My dream used to be on Xizi Lake, with drizzle weaving smoke. On a ship full of karma, I spent a lot of time with you, laughing like a flower and paying off all my nonsense. Whether it is past life or afterlife, life and death, death and life; What frontier revision, the same boat for a hundred years, the separation of grievances, and the legend of nature have nothing to do with the gentle scenery in the rain.
I want to spread out the manuscript paper before a spring rain stops, and give you a long-cherished dream-in this spring, I am willing to give up my freedom and desert pride for a while and be a prisoner of tenderness. Mo Tao's fate is like a dream, and dreams are not all illusory. Even if everything is lost, there are still traces of being wet by the truth on the edge of awakening. In my wandering life, I have been looking for someone who is willing to open an umbrella with me. I want to meet one rain after another in my life with her, and look up at the heavy and weak sky that changes my destiny with her.
Cool and clear autumn, rustling is still familiar; Qu filar silk sad, recall misty rain, familiar with is still that kind of sad. A person standing on the river bank, looking at the invisible rolling autumn water, frozen memories thawed for no reason, and familiar and unfamiliar mirrors floated in my mind.
Yellowing autumn, endless leaves blown by the astringent wind, just an indelible gaunt face, endless memories are spreading. Memories of that time are like water, and what slowly flows through my mind is some happiness that seems like nothing. Fate was here, in the depths of time.
In my memory, who once held your son's hand and gathered his half-life madness? Who kissed his eyes and covered his half-life displacement? With the passage of time, the elegant happiness in memory has already turned into a fleeting past, like yellow leaves on the ground, and the glory of the past can no longer be found. After first frost, the fallen leaves turned into dust again, and the past once again wrote a sad chapter in the world of mortals.
Once forgotten, it fell into a decadent hole, and the instinctive will began to extrapolate. The rest of the years are still like the wind, and it is those vague thoughts that quietly blow into my heart. There is sadness behind the scar. Who wiped her eyelids and shed tears? Who has Nadeshiko's scar, who moistens his dry heart? The sky of fate has been gloomy, and the feeling of not seeing the dawn has deteriorated.
At the end of fate, I seem to hear music again-all the songs are broken, leaving countless dark hates and sorrows, which are rooted in the helpless fate. I can't let go and can't stop. Ask lotus root how much silk it has, and lotus knows who it is suffering for. Wry smile speechless, only pipa v. heartbroken.
This trip is thousands of miles away, with vast rivers and boundless sky. Who can bear deep nostalgia and deep sadness? How can I forget the old things in my head? Those once prosperous flowers will go further and further with the pace of time, and slowly fade into stories and legends. Don't ask me, which day and which life we will meet again. Walking in a lonely deep lane, I have lost the courage to turn back.
In pear flower falls, pear blossoms are old and fragrant all over the city every year. Let bygones be bygones. I'll wear a pear skirt instead. Don't ask if pear blossoms always laugh; Don't ask whether the swaying new branches still have your traces; Don't ask, don't Shuang Yan, whether there are strangers meet again?
Who plays the farewell song on the blue boat? Meet and leave, already doomed, love once, shoulder to shoulder to their respective ends of the earth.
In a word, in a word, all my heart is broken; A wind and a rain are all sad. The farewell song forgotten on the other side hummed here, passing through the years and desolate years. Leave a song, watch the world of mortals, leave a song that has been scattered and flows at the end of the year, past events, past events, or sadness.