I have warned myself countless times that I must not be stingy with May's pen and ink, record every minute that happened in May in detail, and don't forget all the past in May and cherish it in my heart forever. Because, I know, May of 20 13 will never be repeated in all my future May, which has opened a new milestone and a brand-new stage in my life.
What's your favorite passage from Yu's Painful Bone Marrow? If you really like a woman, you are emotional and tempted, and her image will emerge from your pen one day, which is hard to prevent. You really have a cruel brother who loves what he loves and hates what he hates. So, will you take him away one day? Betrayal? In the text. ?
I have been thinking: I am immersed in the joys and sorrows of words every day, in my bones? Sentimental? Where did it come from? Will you also pack up your sadness in an arrogant moment? Is it true that in a few words, the vulnerability and helplessness will be completely eliminated? But it turns out that many times deliberately just silently bear; But it turns out that words, expressions and words that leave your heart will also make you? Obsessed? Uncover, completely expose; But it turns out that your innate character has always been with you, and your idea of selling yourself is incisive?
May should be a happy, warm and harvest season.
In fact, summer and spring in Jinan are one season, so I think I'm still walking in the morning light of spring. The wind is crisp and clear as a song. At night, the dew turns into a pearl-white crystal, reflecting the moonlight on the leaves, petals and grass that are still flourishing, and shining brighter through the branches like water drops that have not yet turned into dew. The sky in May is blue as water, and the faint fragrance of flowers is in the faint spring breeze. Hot air weaves the mist back and forth into milky soft gauze, gently covering the blue fields, and the smoke from the kitchen chimney blooms a delicate smile in the sound of birds. As the sun sets, fiery red clouds depict the sky as crimson, and red clouds are like clouds of blooming peony flowers, some enchanting and enchanting; Villages, wheat seedlings, vegetable fields, cattle and sheep, green mountains, green water and farmers caught in the twilight in the sunset constitute a beautiful ink painting presented by nature.
Like being in such a passionate place? Spring? Walking in the sky, the most pleasant thing is to walk in? Spring? In the center of heaven. Because walking in? Spring? In the heart of heaven, you will forget your usual troubles and loneliness. Time flies, stranded on the beach has nothing to do with recalling the past, and the wind is light and the clouds are light. Open your arms, embrace the warm sunshine, and let the warm wind smooth the complexity and impetuousness; Let it go, the refreshing drizzle moistens the dry and tangled heart with wet hair tips.
May, be quiet? Spring? Color always tempts me, about? Spring? Memories and possible chapters always come to mind inadvertently. I don't remember who said that spring is the most suitable season for planting. I wonder what the person who said this said. Collection? Is it a heavy fruit alone, or a story about the precipitation of time? So what? Harvest? And then what? Do you harvest some buds or get a deep valley orchid? I think we should choose one of the two! In fact, the subconscious feeling should be that the latter accounts for more, and it is true. Maybe, there is always an impulse and desire to torture me quietly, so that I can experience a person's loneliness and enjoy it? But towards which corner of the mountain? Winding water flows freely.
Standing in the warm May? Spring? In the wind, I stretch my thoughts lightly and slowly turn the pages about life, time, love and entanglement. Black and white images and other sad, painful, happy and happy scenes are clearly rotated and replayed. Looking back, I left a string of deep and shallow footprints.
I've heard someone say that on the day when everyone leaves this world, they will walk all the roads they walked before they died, and then pick up the footprints left in this world, put them in their pockets and take them to the Waipo Bridge. Even if you take a car or a boat before you die, those footprints will clearly emerge when the water rises and the car stops.
Write here, suddenly shot, a little worried. Years, life, ups and downs, how many footprints should we leave? About family, about friendship, about love, about happiness, about pain, willing or unwilling?
Too much, too much. How can I count it clearly? I think, if I really get there, I won't have time to pick up so many, so I think, from now on, I will carefully identify them all the way, and then pick them up for collection. However, just pick up the two lines of footprints you left when you walked with me, and the rest can be missed or even discarded. If conditions permit, I want to sew a big cloth bag, put all our footprints in it, store them in the paradise we all look forward to, and bury them under a tree, so that the tree will be covered with flat peaches. Can we open one? Flat peach club? Wait for the monkey to come.
I just don't know if those footprints will be covered by wind, frost, rain and snow. Is it a little blurred by vicissitudes of life? Are some full of dirt and tears? I think I should quickly pick it up, dust it off, wipe off the dirt on it, and put it into the fresh-keeping series one by one, so that it will be fresh forever and exist forever.
Life, we are constantly walking every day, many times just burying our heads, ignoring the scenery and passers-by around us. When we reach our destination or peak, we find that it is not ideal. As a result, the disappointment of loss will suddenly impact the exhausted mind. Turn around? I just know that I have no choice, because now I have met the most beautiful scenery and the person who suits me best. At the same time, I realized that my previous steps were too hasty, my heart was too impetuous, and my eyesight was really superficial. Then, from now on, why don't we hold hands tightly, appreciate, pick up, be grateful, and be grateful that this road has benefited our mountains and rivers, colorful, wind, frost, snow and rain. It is they who let us know what real life is rich and heavy, and it is they who let us know that true love is precious and gorgeous only after suffering and nirvana. In May, the fuse was lit, and we just watched, always risking sparks to let the fireworks of love bloom in the sky and make a beautiful life.
Time flies, no matter how reluctant we are, no matter how reluctant we are to stay, we can't stop the pace of time, sigh, time is too thin, sigh, fingers are too wide, and watch time slip away like this. Life is like the cycle of four seasons, when we are still in spring? Wet clothes, apricot blossom rain, blowing cold willows? Summer is coming to us in full swing? The trees are dark and long in summer, the balcony is reflected in the pond, the crystal curtains are fluttering in the breeze, and the roses are fragrant. . Looking back at my shoulder, a leaf fell on my palm, and a ray of love suddenly wavered? Blue sky, yellow leaves, autumn colors, cold smoke, green waves. The mountain reflects the sunset, and the sky meets the water. The grass is ruthless, and there are many sunsets. . Under the burning poplars in the sunset, I feel the richness, brilliance, cheerfulness, shyness, sadness and indifference of spring. I like this deep spring best, there is no desolation, no sadness, only the full spring rhyme and the noble moment of orchids have freed my mind.
Shallow memories and faint thoughts are just regrets about May this year. Although, I will still write hard every day, remembering the autumn wind when the forest is dyed, and stepping on the maple forest that once held hands, although this May is still far away? Ye Xuehu? But I will still quietly hold the lamp towards the distant, feel dejected at the moon and fly silently? 520! ? Dear kite, let my heart soar with her, even if I go to the moon for nine days? I know my heart, the wind knows, the rain knows, and the sky knows more. I think I should pay homage to a lost memory in the fleeting time! About the past, the chapters about all stories are no longer important. What matters is what I once met and owned. The important thing is that there is a past that can make me intoxicated when I think of it.
Sitting in the shadow that may will go, my heart is shallow and ups and downs.
Pick a green leaf of chlorophyllin and put it on the pillow, so that every dream has a clean bath of orchids. Let the wind blow the wind chimes on the doorframes, beat the cradles around the beams, and hang curtains around the beams. Every windy day, there will be a rustling sound as a companion. Yingyi is open-minded and indifferent, smiling at vicissitudes of life.
In May, I made a huge zongzi with my heart and my skin, and gave it to the only person in my life. I hope she can eat zongzi stuffing and have a hot and sincere heart!
Beautiful prose describing May: May is like a flower, May is like a song, May is like a poem, May is like a picture, walking gracefully, showing a gentle and charming style and lighting up the eyes of everything.
? Notes before the text of a book or after the title of an article.
1
May is like a flower, with fragrance brewing and petals dancing lightly.
Walking in Yuan Ye in May, listening to the birds singing softly, knocking on the window of my heart and opening my inner stagnation.
Smell the flowers, watch the bees and butterflies dance, pick a flower, let the lingering fragrance wrap around your fingers, soak the pen tip, write down fragrant and lingering words, and let the flowers last forever.
Pick a leaf full of green life, put it on your nose and smell it gently, so that the green life can wash away all dust and make your mind clean.
Melt in the flower-like world of May, read the soul of May and find the miracle of life.
2
May is like a song, gentle and charming, unrestrained and uninhibited.
In the early morning of May, the sunshine is soft and charming, and the breeze is gentle, like a clear lake, which makes people feel comfortable. In the cool and pleasant morning of May, I sang a wonderful song about memory, rode my beloved car, and took you all the way to work happily, turning a new page and writing happiness, because I entered May.
May warmed by sunshine is mild. A woman who loves beauty can put on her favorite clothes, walk freely in May thoughts and dance in skirts, which is brewed into a beautiful scenery in May.
May night, gentle as lovers' arms.
Looking from the window, the bustling world of the red dust lantern and the bright stars in the sky complement each other and compose a theme song with unrestrained passion and surging desire.
Quiet in the night of May, I like to play soft and lyrical light music, which gurgles like a stream in May and flows through my heart. My heart will flourish into a landscape in May, and a wonderful story will begin.
On a quiet night in May, after bathing, the room was full of jasmine fragrance, wearing plain nightgown, lying quietly on the shore, unscrewing the lamp like water, spreading out a book, smelling the book soaked in the spleen, wandering in the ancient rhyme and wind, tapping the window of thinking, storing knowledge, flashing light, and all the troubles of the world of mortals melted. The wonderful realm of that kind of writing covers the soul, the immortal is like a fairy, and the heart.
three
May is poetic, moist and silent, drizzling and hazy.
Flowers and trees, insects and birds, mountains and rivers, rain and dew in May are all romantic words and hazy poems.
Holding Mei to read, my heart is full of poems. As soon as I open my mouth, there will be a surge of poems, pearls and small flashes.
Sophora japonica in May is a wind chime, which knocks out the charm of May with the wind, exudes the fragrance of May and embodies the passion of May.
Rain in May is a narrative poem with a long plot that makes people cry.
Lovers lingering in the rain in May, holding umbrellas, sang love poems accompanied by raindrops in May.
Gentle girls walking in the rain in May, holding a purple umbrella, like a poem, are floating in the rain curtain, reading the rain, looking for it in the thick fog, looking forward to blooming in their own season and pairing with lonely shadows.
four
May is so picturesque that I can't take my eyes off it, and my face is full of ecstasy.
Holding a magic pen, depicting mountains, water and everything, all the scenery in the world is in the painting.
In the painting in May, Zongzi is fragrant, Qu Yuan sighed and fixed his face, and sang poems to wake up future generations. Since then, the fish in the Miluo River are often fed zongzi in May.
In May, the mother in the painting smiled brightly, and the children on Mother's Day gave their hearts one by one. Respecting the old and loving the young is the virtue of the Chinese nation.
There will be more wonderful pictures in May, and the pictures in May will be more wonderful every year.
Walking in the charm of May, we appreciate the beauty of flowers, poems and paintings. May also dresses us as beautiful as flowers, as soothing as songs, as hazy as poems and as mysterious as paintings. Walk in May, forget your worries, and be like a fairy!