Text: Drunken beauty
A piece of withered, where to send? Ice cream, born every other year. Flowers will bloom next year, Jun, will you send me a message? A pool is not complete, how to add fragrance? The scarlet curtain, how to thrush? Who should I pay for a piece of ice heart? Wen Bingying, who buries flowers? Holding a feather fan, shaking the moon for whom? Mantuo is purple, misty and rainy. Who's worried about red? Fight ten thousand skirts and yarns, ten thousand blue moons. Try to pay the spring water to the east, the dust has been removed, and there is no reincarnation! Dream of this life, beauty is old, who will change youth for youth? Empty sky, a dream, a drunk!
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A love that devours everything, drunk in the world of mortals, lost romance. Leaning against the railing, I lost my face. And the east wind has blossomed, how many flowers do you know in your dream? ? Half a roll of curtains, obsessed with looking at the moon, only said: every piece is sad, every piece is hurt. Once met, separated overnight, looking back, flowers are not flowers, dreams are not dreams. Prosperity is gone, who is it, still counting gently, and yellow flowers are everywhere? Who is it, still cleaning silently, falling red in a spring? However, there are countless dribs and drabs of acacia; However, what can't be swept away is the lingering past.
The past is like smoke, whose loneliness touched whose heart? Whose life is the world of mortals drunk? Who is waiting for the lonely time? The past is unbearable, drunken flowers still remember the dream of lovesickness, and young flowers disperse with tears. The leaves in the wind gather when they gather. Western jackdaw has settled and the moon rises. At this point, the night is awkward.
Half a blue lamp and a piece of paper, a solitary lamp only reflects this life.
Who was drunk with simple notes and shallow ink and wrote a fleeting dream?
Looking back at the broken dreams of a thousand years, the lonely words of a hundred years are bleak.
If you ask who you are crazy about in this life, Duan Duan's heart tells of desolation.
Turn a thousand times, but keep the horizon, look back at the mountains and rivers, and sing homesick tears. I hate the fleeting time, but I don't know how to worry. That year, Na Yue, that day, wrote about the fleeting time, and that love, that love, that person, and the flute blowing for the west wind.
In Shuimei, a piece of ice flowers fell, one did not become the horizon, and the other did not become the past. I would like to ask you to meet again next year, spring blossoms, and who will fall overnight? Holding your hand, growing old with your son, tears streaming down your face. At this time, some words are worth a thousand words. At the moment, I have asked some questions, so I don't need to answer them. I know them clearly.
Turn around and look back, wave your sleeves, smile like a flower, dip in tender feelings like water, write down thin words of acacia, put them in a book, and grow old with the years. See you another day. Look at these dry fine ink characters. Besides, those everlasting feelings are redundant.
Take a Zhang Suqin, invite a waning moon, string a pot of turbid wine, and let out intoxicating sounds, wave after wave. Whose long-cherished wish is overflowing? Through tang style Song Yu, looking for it, you and I met in the ink chapter. Inadvertently, we fell in love for a long time, wrote an unknown fate for each other with a fleeting pen, and hid the unknown acacia with a corner of our soul.
Lonely shadows never sleep, and the bright moon silently crosses the cold pool.
It's late at night, I know my sadness is heavy, but I can't see the broken bridge and willow.
Cold leaves are frosting for no reason, and fallen leaves are floating down and banging on the wall.
Loneliness flies all over the path, turning into sadness and heartbreaking.
Can you sleep peacefully when I am awake in the dead of night? The wind blows gently outside the willow, the shadows of Cangshan forest sway, and a wisp of acacia between the eyebrows is confusing. If you look closely, you seem to see the end of the world where you are. You smiled at me, and I was embarrassed to leave the flowers in front of the court. The only way is: don't know each other, one seems to know in a previous life, and it is a "know" that has been obsessed for thousands of years. In the best time, the most wonderful world of mortals gave each other the most beautiful scenery in life.
If fate allows me to start over, you and I will meet among thousands of people. Can you recognize me at a glance and fall in love at first sight? Then, holding an oil-paper umbrella, we walked together in the rainy lane in the south of the Yangtze River, telling the deep loneliness and pouring out the deep love in the melancholy misty rain.
If time returns to the original point, can you and I look back and stop for each other in a passing time, and then, you hold my hand and walk towards the golden age of love?
Pick a life, I use a piece of paper to interpret helpless love, no matter how deep or shallow, I cry because of you in my dream and laugh because of you; Look at you when the seasons alternate; Waiting for you at the ferry of the years. In a blink of an eye, the desolation of a season has dimmed the sadness of this city. I condensed my heart into a sad poem, scattered in the wind of acacia, sneaked into your heart in the moonlight, branded permanent stain of love, and interpreted my heart into an eternal landscape in your soul, engraved in the eternal stars.
At this moment, my heart is full of poetry and moon-like thoughts, decorating your dreams and carving our time and love. I put the taste of the world of mortals in my heart, just waiting for a good opportunity to taste it with you; Let this affection decorate each other's streamers in the sky of years, and let this true love release each other's hearts in the distance of life.
Looking back, it is the vicissitudes of the years, the sadness of the years, the loneliness of the mountains and rivers, and the dull gaze of the heart. My sigh is banished to every full moon. I am worried about the fate of this life. I have waited for a thousand years. I am tired of endless expectations. I have lost my face and become unforgettable. I have fallen into a flash in the pan. I really want to use a season's drift to annihilate all the bright marks like meteors, and I really want to use my reincarnated body to throw away all the dreamy and beautiful memories, so that I won't be silly and infatuated with you, but my silly heart is always helpless and lonely.
Always in the dark, inadvertently, you will walk into my dream and ripple in my heart. I am eager to spend every minute with you. At this time, I can only recall last night's dream. Between the lines, I am a person, lonely, traveling through time and space, wandering in all your dreams with one heart, regardless of the changes of years and the vicissitudes of the world. Actually, I just ...
In the middle of the night, under the acacia tree, there are many dreams that make people meditate all night and can't sleep at night; Beside the Naihe Bridge, there are many disappointments that make people's souls swing and fall into reincarnation forever. A season of lovesickness swept the earth, and I was wondering what ordinary love was: a season of sadness, butterfly dreams and tears dyed the whole city red, and I was wondering what lovesickness was like; In a bleak season, wild geese cross the autumn waters without trace, how to reach the horizon hand in hand. Millennium nightmare, waiting hard, just for one day to break the cocoon into a butterfly, flapping the wings of dreams and holding hands with you to the end of the world, flying to the road of the afterlife. At that moment, I just wanted to be with you and forget all the worldly troubles.
A thin word, who wrote the sadness, who sang the prosperity of the world. The wind and flowers sing in a low voice. At the end of the dream, I am a past life that I don't understand or understand.
Whose eyes fixed on whose life? Whose vows warm people's hearts? Who is the true feelings, let who pour out their lives? Who is the talent, who is sad? In the watery night, I turned my mind into thick ink and dipped it in the pen tip. On the white paper of life, I described all my worries and smeared some dust shadows. With the bleak sound of time, I couldn't help shedding two lines of clear tears, leaving the regret of this life between my sobbing lips and teeth, and indulging in it alone for a lifetime.
Remember, where the heart blooms, our love blooms? Who knows, in the place where the flowers fall in season, the worries in the fundus are crazy long. Looking at it alone, it is desolate, the silence of the season, the fading of the golden years, and the burial of displaced thoughts.
Remember the full moon when the mediastinum is thousands of miles long and the mediastinum is thousands of years old? You are drinking wine, I am touching the harp, and you are playing the harp, telling your deep feelings and blooming a feeling that will last for a long time in your heart? But there is no moon tonight, and the sound of the piano is flowing, and my sorrow can't be exhausted; Drunk to sleep, the dream continues my sadness; The deep courtyard locks my loneliness, and the cool breeze interprets my loneliness. Who can stop my tears?
Even if you have your world and I have my world, opening each other's hearts is still your deep affection and my deep love. As we all know, for thousands of years, the world of mortals had dreams, but it was impossible. We can only keep each other in poetry and keep us forever. After many years, can I see you in the dusk when the rain stops, in the tall building in the moonlight, looking back with melancholy, and at the intersection around the corner?