Bright moon, Chanjuan, water tone, wet vicissitudes.
Notes before the text of a book or after the title of an article.
Whose wind and sand did you bind with a veil? Whose heart did you spill when you gently lifted your skirt?
A prosperous dream, a stunning figure, who is waiting for 500 years?
A bunch of fiery eyes, looking back for 500 years and going through a thousand years of reincarnation, meet in the wrong way. You are in misty rain, and I am outside misty rain, opening and falling, falling and opening;
I sat in front of the Buddha for 500 years, just waiting for a prosperous encounter, but I missed the most beautiful period of flowers.
Misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, why do you always miss the time and get your eyes wet if you are a little smarter?
Dim fragrance floating, thin shadow sideways, whose western window candle did you cut? Sparse the window, peach blossoms fall to find fragrance, and red makeup still exists.
Whose autumn pond was raised on rainy nights in the south of the Yangtze River? Jiangnan smoke is red, whose infatuation and sadness have been continued? Euphemistic rhythm is fascinating. Whose journey was bypassed, and an unforgettable sadness was bypassed?
When I met at the broken bridge, I came from the depths of the floating dust. At the moment when the moonlight staggered, the bustling noise collapsed behind me; Your gentle, clear water and rippling blue waves have stirred up my heart for thousands of years; Looking back and smiling, plain color is fleeting, and your beautiful face will never grow old in my profusion.
Ink collection, word thinning, acacia falling, yellow flower thinning; That touch of autumn red left me endless tender memories.
On the other side of the snow, you, wearing a gauze, danced with lotus-like steps and walked leisurely through the umbrella shadow of Qinhuai for thousands of years; I feathered into a butterfly in the yellow picture of a blue lantern, crossed your blue sky and white clouds, crossed your fresh water lotus pond, and fluttered my dreams;
That broken lamp shadow, that wet' decay', is your faint sadness hidden behind the daily necessities. I am in the blue and white of your Millennium porcelain inkstone, blooming and falling by the vast river. Come faint, go faint. The spring-blooming words and fleeting frost marks have drowned the coldness of poetry and songs, and warmed the hearts of people at the bedside.
The beauty of those little hearts carries your heart and overflows mine; Go back to the shore and look for that strange spring. I don't know whose ivy is around your door and whose butterfly is in your heart, ups and downs, ups and downs. The warp wheel of misty rain carries the sound of the breeze.
A faint mist, the smoke curled up on the other side. The sand of memory blows my cold eyes.
Hold your smile gently, quiet but deep, refreshing and lofty; When you say afterlife, whose city is empty? Whose celadon is empty? In autumn, when the acacia goose yellow came, the red notes that were not sent away in time were mixed in the cold and warm wind, and Ren Qiuyu was wanton and cold;
Who made the soft fragrance of the afterlife, silently felt the parting of meeting, and knew each other with a touch of acacia? In the depths of the heart pavilion, there is no help, and the edge is shallow. Let go of the lingering fetters and watch the late meeting smile, no matter how noisy it is, it can't take away the fragrance that sings in the heart window.
Perhaps, meeting is a frostbite essay, sad and lingering, hazy and beautiful;
Perhaps, holding a thousand red flowers, only the lost one is the most beautiful, perhaps, loved by thousands, only the one with a hundred feet in Xuan Bing is the most beautiful;
I have been obsessed with everything in Qian Qian all my life, and there is no turning back in the world; People are as old as ever, the night is still young, the dull notes are faintly revealed, the feelings are moistened, and the clothes and feathers are wrapped in the sea and snow, which is a yearning, a clear acacia and a sad fragrance;
If the encounter is a color, then the encounter between you and me is that faint golden yellow, with the vicissitudes of the world, blooming faintly in the round tube and ferrying in the world of mortals, silent and gloomy;
Wind and rain; Green lamp, lingering fragrance; All the way through the wind and rain, I was wet all over. I still feel sad if I want to say it. Memories that have nowhere to be placed are submerged by the hustle and bustle of the prosperous times in the depths of glitz, and overlapping dreams are wet and tender on the pillow every night.
One-night fling. Who's gone? Chewing bone incense, the fragrance is a little tragic, and the dance is a little beautiful, which is shallowly embedded in my unforgettable heart.
After you left, love finally became a wound, and sadness wore a shallow smile on the stone. Although it is still bright, there is no exhausting heat. Although it's still warm, it's missing a rib to melt.
The past is dazzling, the old dreams are blooming, and the vows slide down the heart wall. Whose white gauze is stuck on the pole of the Red Dust Ferry, and whose heart is fluttering? Vague songs. who is calling? Through the floating dust, my eyes were cut. At the moment when my memory fell, I lost weight, but it turned out to be just a wisp of sadness.
At the end of the dream, the past life is hard to understand. The water in the West Lake has been cold for thousands of years. In the coming time, once we meet, it will be deserted.
Spring has gone and returned. Flowers fall and bloom again. Whose door did you put your sedan chair in? When you walk helplessly, the petals wither behind you, do you know?
That's my broken heart.
The window is thin and light blue; Red dust ferry, waiting for a lifetime of spring flowers.