You are like the moon in the water, hanging in the air and falling on the ground, fluttering and curling. You are like a flower in the mirror, always smiling and blooming, always widowed. You have beautiful eyebrows and half a lip, and there are a thousand flavors in the world. Sometimes you are in the water, it is difficult to catch up, sometimes you are in the water, it is difficult to find the current, just like a naughty child, playing hide-and-seek, hiding and playing games.
I met you in the most beautiful poems and songs.
Your clothes are fluttering, butterflies are dancing, you are endowed with the most gorgeous beauty, and the world languishes for you. Sometimes you are melancholy, full of tears, sad and painful, and sometimes you smile and charm, and your voice is quiet and quiet, blocking your shy years. Don't ask where you come from, just want to meet you.
I met you in the most beautiful poems and songs.
There is Yan Ruyu in the poem, and there is a golden house in the poem. I don't live a prosperous life for gold, but only by guarding the flowers in the poem. The poet toasted you, and the official raised your family for life. I just wander in the words. If I haven't finished writing this book, I will write down the flowers scattered in my life for you. (American website * *)
I met you in the most beautiful poems and songs.
Make a pot of fragrant tea, hold a classical poem and invite the bright moon to enjoy it. Lock the courtyard deeply, watch the buttonwood trees fall, and listen to the cries of West Western jackdaw. In poetry, you are as beautiful as a fairy and as delicate as jade. In poetry, you are more beautiful than a yellow flower with tearful eyes. In the poem, you are unlucky and lost all the way.
I met you in the most beautiful poems and songs.
It is quiet in the dead of night. You lean against the window and watch a river, waiting for the lonely sail to approach. With the warm breeze, silver moon falls, the pipa babbles, and the sound is scattered. The music is exhausted, the people are sparse and the moon is empty. I will taste your semi-paper quicksand, and the moon will fall to the end of the world.
I met you in the most beautiful poems and songs.
Committed to plain and elegant, feel the fireworks, body and mind are warm and cold, and turn it into a smooth chapter. You are sentimental and witty, and you are elegant. You are a lotus picker in the south of the Yangtze River, drifting with the flow, picking flowers with your fingertips and picking a jasper flawless. You are alone in the flower lane, letting people kill time in front of the bathroom mirror.
I met you in the most beautiful poems and songs.
With the rhythm of the wind, you are charming in the silence of the wind, sent away in the pavilion, your eyes are dancing, and you are looking forward to it every day. Where are the heartbroken people? In my poems and songs, I admire your melancholy and confusion, and your heart is broken.
I met you in the most beautiful poems and songs.
I stood on the fragrant river bank in troubled times, watching the bright lights and the fragrant tea. You are blowing willows on the river, holding the lute and singing a flower of national subjugation. No one blames you for your beauty, and no one pities you for your beauty. I know you, a song of national subjugation.
I met you in the most beautiful poems and songs.
Peacock flies southeast, you are practical, you are beautiful, and you are infatuated, which is unparalleled by secular women. You fell in love with your husband, and you buried your life for him. I admire you in poetry and songs, your obsession with love and your life.
In this life, I would like to meet you in poetry and songs, and meet the most beautiful you.