The whole winter, after a season of sadness, finally with a cool smile, steadily overflowing; That warm, amazing yesterday's time, bypassing the soft heart of fingers, in the wilderness, streets and lanes, are flashing faint throb; Liu Bitao Yan Yan, the clouds are light and the wind is light, and the flowers are full of clothes.
Or, stand in the distance, don't disturb every resurrected soul, and enjoy the depth left by last night's death in shallow and faint peace; Different feelings, in the shadow of this year, are swaying inexplicable pain and helpless forbearance. The branches tell the love story of a season, and a spring dream is rippling on the lake. From the depths of my memory, I salvage the remaining poetic heart, polish a roll of eyeful hope with clear dew as ink, and then leave a blank forever. ...
Flowers, mottled mood, so that I can't believe that the moment a flower blooms, it will be the end of a season. Sparse and lush, just a dream connection-spring has been walking in my heart, but I don't know who to collect it from.
Last night, it snowed in my heart. I don't know if I missed a period of time or failed to live up to a blooming season. Wandering around, how many graceful words are wasted and how many expectant eyes are ignored; I have to use my fragmented words to outline the noise and coldness of the distance, thinking about the spring flowers you promised, shaking my head, just like sending away a beautiful dream. ...
Suddenly, I remembered Zhang Ailing's three hates in life: first, begonia is tasteless, second, shad is prickly, and third, the red chamber is unfinished.
I read The Red Chamber again this spring, and suddenly I deeply understood her hate. Reading the red chamber is not to be arty. In fact, the dream of a dream of red mansions is over. Otherwise, how can there be a record of empty monks loving monks? How can there be Qin Xue who mourned Hongxuan for ten years?
Twelve Women in Jinling has been added and deleted five times, all of which are ridiculous.
A bitter tear! Dou Yun's author is crazy.
Who knows the taste? "Is the most sad thing! In fact, it is the regret of the ending. It's hard to get rid of its mystery. It can't be said that the Red Chamber is a story, but a history. How many people can understand this history?
Just as flowers choose to bloom in spring, they pile up lonely desires into a bright and clean life; Purple butterflies dance in the wind, trying to forget a century of indulgence with a colorful wing; I don't think that era is old. However, the corners of the eyes are the easiest to get wet in spring. It is reserved and beautiful. In boundless happiness, it plays the role of a messenger to save the soul, peeling off its own pain, like a wandering walker, looking for the withered and residual red of fantasy flowers in the moment of opening. ...