The fine scratches on the heart were turned into a dark tide by time and rotted over. I heard a sigh deep in my chest.
All the pulsing emotions start from a wild and overgrown thought. The wind and air trembled through your thin and unclear words.
The moonlight of that year was like the thin snow in early winter covering my shoulders that would never look back. It’s time to say goodbye after thinking of you with unfinished thoughts.
The dry weather is always waiting for endless rain. It merged into one hazy and suffocating day after another. The dream is gone.
I let my thoughts shrink into a smooth and faded empty storehouse and fade away again. The childish idea of ??slow differentiation as one grows up disappears.
They are broken down into small molecules by sunlight. Like a bubble, I want to look back and remember the past. The curtains were not closed. So the winter sunshine outside the house spreads in the room. The floor was sprinkled with a layer of golden light.
Just like these harsh years in the past, we can’t see the reality clearly and can’t find a way out. The debauched loneliness and youth. You are in a daze.
But it became a lifetime of silence. It turns out that my past was only short-sighted and not free. I have been blinded by you all these years.
All that I hope you will do to me. Your back in the sun will stay until the boiling emotions become the last memories.
The glorious years have swallowed up our efforts. We gradually forget that the sparkle and bustle of youth repeatedly turn into dark wounds.
I never thought of it at first. We will ring in love. Carved by time. Remember the old year. Diary kept when I was a child. Open.
Now that I think of those childish beauties, they are probably the only simplicity left in this life. Intrigue. Living requires this. There is always a girl in your heart who died in a car accident last year
Why no matter how good and serious I am
You still only regard me as her substitute
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Why
You said that when she died, her white dress was dyed red with blood
Like a blooming flower
You said that she She was so peaceful and beautiful when she died
You said she was the most perfect work of art in the world
It rained that day and I came to the street wearing a white dress
I stood in the middle of the road
I suddenly smiled so horribly
Because he will love me soon
Because I will soon It has become the most perfect work of art in the world.
It is simple and simple what I want, but what you give me is cumbersome and embarrassing. I have gradually lost sight of the warmth remaining in your eyes. I have
turned away from your world to live a proud life again. The small talk was surprising. Wandering at a lonely crossroads unable to find a way to pass the time.
Two people in love always look forward to each other's future. But he is questioning the other party's past. I love the sad lyrics hidden under the melody.
Those deep thoughts are so thorough that it makes people despair. Is it already TW when I choose to give up all this? The root without warning is deep
The foundation is solid. Love is an exception on this earth. It ties in what people cannot control. I am willing to watch you quietly walk away happily.
The gray sky gradually darkened and covered the entire lifeless city. It was noisy and noisy. The lead-colored dark clouds made people feel inexplicably dull.
The shadow that suddenly appeared in my thoughts hurt my heart even more. Longing becomes a cocoon. Why is it that the pain that has been settling down for so long suddenly arises?
Let me revisit that wound. Hidden in the deep holes are tragedies that you cannot predict. I can still look at your hypocrisy with indifference.
The vast expanse of shallowness left by time has turned into the incomplete beauty that withers in memory. I could only hide in the deserted corridor and be temporarily frustrated.
It truly became a part of my life and accompanied me as I grew older. I have been in the hustle and bustle but alone. The colorful colors around me were burned by the strong light and lost their moisture, looming and fading over the years. All my feelings are broken, but I have to show my drunken fake smile.
Aimlessly looking for the warmth that has been lost for a long time. The chirping outside the window in the afternoon was still a hallucinatory signal. How come your breathing and heartbeat are separate horns? I fell into the trench of your tenderness and evolved into a prison. I also fantasize about going back in time.
Break through the existing future and give you a perfect future. I erase these dark shadows so you can boldly find your true love. All day long, I sleep with myself and those memories that are about to decay in the years that are gradually disappearing. It turns into layers of turbidity and renders it. This piece of writing by her
is one of my favorites of all time. It was already a few months ago that I liked Wei Yi'an's writing. This is not what I want
. There was a huge hole of sadness in my heart. It turns out that this is the sluggishness of separation. They gradually fade out of my life with you.
Maybe one day I can edit everything in the past into a small and brief microcosm. The pain of their accomplishments is diluted.
Wei Yi’an said it. Tragedy is not the main theme, but it has an indispensable meaning in everyone's heart. Whether a breakthrough can break one's own lies. A person's world is boring, looking for comfort in other people's memories, and stubbornly trying to find the perfect similarities between two people.
But I still can't find the usual ones.
The bustling crowd is still wandering on the dilapidated path. Time tramples memory beyond recognition. What I remember and what I can’t remember are a mess.
But I have not forgotten it. A love deeply imprinted in the bones. Quietly depriving me of my only hope. I am a weakling.
I have appreciated tragedy and acted out tragedy. But he absconds in the last scene. People are alive. Enthusiasm is dead. Time gnaws away bit by bit.
Light years draw a long dividing line. We also went further and further away. The lonely rumble reminds me that the walls inside me are crumbling. It's time to leave. I miss those sounds that can travel light years and cleanse the soul. The silence that echoes through my body. I miss putting my fingers in the sun.
Put out those lonely silhouettes freely. When you raise your head, you can breathe in the dusty air. Lost on the coldest day of winter.
Feel the slowly rising and flowing breath in the air. Try to forget all the unpleasant or pleasant days. Those past.
It seems to be explaining what the world is like. Things are different and people are different. Who is approaching you as the years go by. Really like this sentence.
And the next sentence. Who is leaving you in the wasted time of sun and moon? Those happy years will slowly be diluted. I can't remember anything. Who said that loved ones may be forgotten by time, but the unforgettable pain will remain forever. The old promises disappeared into the sky.
Memory still lingers intermittently on the horizon where the white fish belly floats. The lingering sadness turns around and becomes such a sad existence.
Longing for nature. The kind of soul-stirring feeling that washes away all the troubles makes it possible for people to abandon the current troubles. It turns out that everything is insignificant.
The look back at me has been lost in some light-year. How many stories are layered and mottled and stay in my heart. Spring and Autumn Years.
Time has washed away the youthful appearance. All I need is to stay away from the mortal world. The heart is as clear as glass. The rebirth of Feng Yue Ji Lu. There is a pain in my lonely heart that I don't want others to understand. I look at myself typing these pale and powerless words. Crazy to open the once empty streets mixed with fog that blurred my eyes. How far do you have to go so that you can't see the plot you have passed through? The crowded bustling city
is not suitable for the sad me to drink alone. It's just a few moments of recreation. Hiding those difficult pasts will only make me tired and helpless.
Neon flashes are just a dazzling charm. The playground was empty. The yellowed lawn and the dead branches and leaves. And those memories we
have walked through have been silently hidden by time until they rot. Graduation is approaching. And will I continue to be unable to say that I'm sorry? The clear and traceless years fade away and gradually lose their original appearance in the years. The meaning of your existence explains my hasty youthful love.
When Hua passed away, we were still wandering around in the hurt caused to each other and were at a loss. Your smile wets my heart like morning dew.
I am just your scenery. You are just my passerby. I searched for every error I could remember. Only then did I realize that you had already been lost in those days that I could never forget.
Tears stained with blood. Loneliness finally reverses right and wrong. Write down those reluctances.
But I forgot what to say to retain her. Turn on the computer as soon as you get up. Then log in to Q. Look at the farm. Grab a parking space. Like many people's lives. I am willing to be trapped in your arms. What you wrap your hands around is my life. I am willing to be imprisoned for the rest of my life.
In the slow progress day after day, year after year, those pains also rolled into my world. Like a big swath of thumbtacks.
Some people say that dreams are the most real pain. Then every night, I am swallowed up by loneliness and how far I have left you invisibly.
When the face appeared, the sunlight cast into the depths of the indescribable black pupils could not find the direction of the palm prints. Lost somewhere.
In that sunflower field, the yellow undercurrent whipped the crows in the distance. I fired into the blur of vision. I raised my head and stood on tiptoes, trying my best to chase the sun. There is no end to the hidden traces, and there can be no traces of memories.
But here I am thinking about your promise to me and all the false and arrogant lies. I'm just a kid.
I am also remembering the fantasy that penetrated into my bones again and again. Then wandering in the virtual imagination unable to extricate themselves. in this way.
Whether the entangled beginning led to the fact that we could only leave without words in the end. I am tired of the good things that are crumbling behind you.
So while I was working on the newspaper, I suddenly saw the departing warmth of those shadows that were no longer real, picking up the lost dawn of time.
The branches swaying in the flowing fire along the way belong to some embarrassing dream, so my life is too blank and has been squeezed dry.
The sudden and sudden collapse of the situation made me restless and eroded, leaving me with only a lingering rebuttal and little willpower. Silent? Every heartache and exhaustion will leave only a vague mark afterwards. When we re-read it, we felt a lot more miserable.
I sewed up wounds for myself that could not be scarred for a long time. I passed the path you took. Thinking of us back then.
Same road. It's just that things are different and people are different. Our laughter stretched the shadows back then. Went to eat and came home late.
The trickle of secret sadness in my heart urged melancholy over and over again. Caressing the tenderness behind the prosperity of several generations. The face that cannot be seen clearly in the dream.
When I see you again, I will suddenly remember that we were in love. But it's all over. That sentence is so sad. Although I practice hard to forget. My heart has not yet agreed that I can give up on you. I'm really sorry for promising you that I won't love you anymore.
My heart has not yet promised myself. Fragmented and immersed in the air, leaving stains of longing as always.
I have read so many love stories. I feel sad when all this actually happens to me. Original promise.
I still remember when Xiaosha told you how could I have love. It turns out that there is a kind of love in this world that makes you cry before you even open your mouth.
The memory still stays in winter. When I said my hand was cold, you stretched out your hand and held it. Trade-offs. separation. Or sad. I can only say to myself, at least I live a very real life. The people and things I touched really existed and became my support.
The most romantic thing is to grow old slowly with you. I am willing to walk forward slowly with you with white hair and holding hands.
The most splendid years of my life have been swept away by confusion. You made me see the ugliness of the world and made me feel the beauty of you.
After a long time, I saw clearly the years behind the eternity. They are all struggling to escape the past they left behind.
You must be so old when you walk through that darkness. Calluses on fingertips. Folded old year. Avoiding like crazy. The fluttering distance gradually became clearer as I swerved left and right to escape, but when I saw it clearly, I was startled again.
The dark years. How can I look back when I am lonely? How sad it is to wait until the infatuation is as deep as the sea. No more sadness. No more joy.
Like a withered flower, please give me a tomb for my misty eyes. Listening to a song wildly. What is it telling?
The familiar melody still helps me recall you again. We are all children in the fleeting time who are forced to follow in the footsteps of the fleeting time.
Forced to change due to the changing times. It will be gray. will wither. There will be vicissitudes of life. Old year. What if you and I had never met. The beautiful couple like flowers will never be able to survive the passing of time. You are still crying in the wind. The hair on the temples was flying and messy with the white clothes.
However, the person who wiped away your tears and smoothed your hair was no longer the indifferent young man. The people around me have old smiles.
Time will not stand still in one place forever, it will take away the past and sorrow. And those pains are just nirvana before rebirth.
The cocoon before turning into a butterfly. After a long evolution, it flew into the sky. Or hit the ground hard. Or fly in the sky from now on.
Those lingering and entangled thoughts. Glitz and glamour. The trivialities of life. Happiness blooms quietly in the air.
Memories of the past. Whispers about emotions. Gather into a river. The quiet flow turns into warmth spreading and expanding in the heart. Walk forward to find your own light. What would happen if we could get rid of worldly involvements? Silence.
Whenever my mother sneered and talked about those people, she no longer wondered whether these people really loved me. We are already strangers.
The rain is getting heavier and heavier, messing up your back. I'm lying in a corner where you don't notice, singing a song that I haven't returned to.
In those old days, many indelible moments passed slowly but hastily. Afraid of uneasy days. Smile, though my heart is aching. All kinds of self-righteous pride have created my unknown ridiculousness. The image of water is everywhere in Chinese classical poetry: spring water, autumn water, river water, river water, water with waves as smooth as a mirror, water with angry waves lapping at the shore, water that cascades thousands of miles, water that is as curved as a soft intestine, water that makes a cool sound, and pulses that are silent. Water...water takes various forms in poetry, and the associations caused by water in the poet's mind are also complex and diverse.
Water is difficult to cross, and water is a barrier. Yan Shu, a poet in the Song Dynasty, "If you want to send colorful notes, you have no ruler, and you will know where the mountains are and the rivers are vast" ("Butterfly Loves Flowers"), which is the response to this barrier. sigh. But more than a thousand years before Yan Zhu, an unknown poet issued a more profound lament. His lament traveled through time and space and moved countless descendants:
The sky is green, and the white dew is frost. The so-called beauty is on the water side.
If you follow it for migratory steps, the road is long and blocked; if you follow it for migratory steps, you will find it in the middle of the water. ("The Book of Songs·Qin Feng·Jian Jia")
Who is the so-called Yiren? Some people say it is the friend they are visiting, and some people say it is the wise person they seek. From the perspective of modern people, perhaps lovers are the most appropriate. In the morning when the reeds are green and lush and the white dew condenses into frost, the poet goes to the waterside to find his beloved. He searched along the zigzag water bank, but the road was difficult and far away; he searched along the straight water channel, but the man seemed to be surrounded by water, out of reach. The vast artistic conception of Jianjia Bailu and the pain and hopelessness separated by water still make readers feel melancholy after thousands of years.
This is the lack of freedom in the world. In "Nineteen Ancient Poems" of the late Han Dynasty, there is a poem about the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl being blocked by the Milky Way:
The far-off Altair star, the bright river and the Han girl. The slender hands are used to make tricks. I can't make up my mind all day long, and my tears are like rain. The river is clear and shallow. How far has it gone? There is a room full of water, and the pulse is speechless.
"Jianjia" is about the male protagonist's pursuit of women, while this poem starts from the female perspective, describing the weaving life of the Weaver Girl, describing how she had no intention of weaving because of lovesickness, and her tears were like rain. The most touching thing is that the poem does not describe the vastness of the river, but emphasizes that it is "clear and shallow". The two are not far apart, but they can only look at each other affectionately through the light and flickering water. This is the heart-breaking pain and the eternal regret.
The barrier meaning of the water image appears repeatedly in the poems of later generations: "It is sad to see you off here, the sails are vast across the river" (Li Bai's "Tong Wang Changling Sends Off His Brother Xiang to Guiyang"), " The reason is that the water in Zhejiang is hateful, cutting off thousands of mountains to create two villages" (Fang Qian's "Farewell to Sun Shu"), "Thousands of miles of mist are gone, and the mist is sinking at dusk, and the sky is vast" (Liu Yong's "Yulin Ring"), the vast mist , looking at each other through the separation, separation of feelings, but makes the separation deeper. Until contemporary times, on the island "on the other side of the water", the poet still sighed: "Now, homesickness is a shallow strait, I am at this end, and the mainland is at the other end." ("Nostalgia")
However, from another perspective, water can flow, so water has the meaning of communication. Du Fu's "Thoughts":
I remember the drunken Sima in Jingzhou, who was relegated to an official and the wine bottle was always open. Where to wake up at sunset in Jiujiang? I fell asleep several times with one pillar of view.
My pitiful embrace is exhausted, and I want to ask for peace but no one comes. Therefore, it is better to shed a pair of tears with Jin Shui than a pile of Yanli piles in Qutang.
Du Fu, who lived in Shu, missed his friends in Jingzhou and wanted to ask for peace, but could not find a messenger to send a letter; instead, Jinshui (Jinjiang), a tributary of the Minjiang River that flows south of Chengdu, Sichuan, was in front of his door. , named after Zhuojin (Du Fu Thatched Cottage is close to the river), flows into the Yangtze River and flows through the Three Gorges to reach Jingzhou. The poet imagines that his tears of missing his friend drip into the Jinshui, and then he can flow eastward with the water until he is where his friend is. Here, the Yangtze River is no longer a barrier, but has become a medium for poets to convey their emotions. This use of water imagery as a medium to communicate emotions is also common in poetry, such as the familiar "The solitary sail is far away in the blue sky, and only the Yangtze River can be seen flowing in the sky" (Li Bai's "Yellow Crane Tower Sends Meng Haoran to Guangling") , the boat the friend was riding on has disappeared from sight, but the Yangtze River in front of him is flowing to the sky. That is the direction in which Gufan is going. Isn't the vast river just like the poet's constant feelings of parting? "Last year when we went to Yangzhou, we saw each other off at the Yellow Crane Tower. Seeing the sails going far away, my heart was chasing the water of the river" (Li Bai's "Jiangxia Journey"), "The depth of the wine glass was the same as last year. I tried pouring water under the bridge, and I will arrive in central Hunan this evening" (Chen Yuyi's "Linjiang") Fairy") is a more direct expression of the communication meaning of water imagery.
The contradictory meanings of water's isolation and communication can be expressed simultaneously in poems. The most typical one is "Bu Suanzi" by Li Zhiyi of the Song Dynasty:
I live on the Yangtze River. At the head, you live at the end of the Yangtze River. I miss you every day and don’t see you. ***Drink water from the Yangtze River. When will this water stop, and when will this hatred end? I only hope that your heart will be like mine, and I will live up to my love.
A pair of lovers are separated by the river, and they are unfortunate enough to drink from the river. The river is both the source of pain and spiritual comfort for them. The poet uses this contradictory unity of separation and communication to describe love in a touching and pathos way.
The water that creates barriers is naturally ruthless water, and the water that communicates emotions is passionate water. Water images also have different emotional meanings due to the different effects of water. In the second film of "Businessman", the lyrical protagonist uses the river as a metaphor for his resentment towards his lover who cannot meet him. If the river is endless, the resentment will be endless. The characteristics of water are delicate and deep. People often say that "tenderness is like water". The image of water is indeed suitable to imply lingering and long-lasting emotions. Wen Tingyun's "Dream of Jiangnan": "After washing up, I leaned alone on the Wangjiang Tower. There are thousands of sails that have passed by. The water is long and slanting. The heart is broken by Bai Pingzhou." The long flowing water reflects the silent setting sun. Isn't it exactly what the missing woman is looking at the return boat? The feeling of loneliness and sadness? This is the water in the eyes of those who lean on the building looking forward to returning home. Ouyang Xiu used the image of the distant spring water in "Treading on the Shasha" to express the theme of farewell:
The plum trees in the waiting hall are withered, and the willows on the creeks and bridges are thin. The grass is smoked and the wind is warm and the bridle is shaking. The sorrow of separation gradually becomes infinite, and the distance continues like spring water. Every inch of soft intestine is full of pink tears. Don't lean against dangerous railings if the building is high. Pingwu is near Chunshan, and travelers are outside Chunshan.
The same woman upstairs, the same river of spring water, but this time it is the person she is looking at, waving a riding whip in the warm wind and traveling far away. As the travelers traveled farther and farther, the sadness in her heart became deeper and deeper, just like the spring water in the distance. Running water can also be compared to the feeling of lovesickness. "The flow of fertile water eastward will last forever, which is why we miss lovesickness at the beginning" (Jiang Kui's "Partridge Sky"). The endless flow of water is exactly the limitless stretch of lovesickness. The heart of longing for home can even turn into flowing water, flowing to the place that the poet yearns for: "If you want to know how to say goodbye, you will think about this evening, and the Han River flows eastward." (Qian Qi's "Send Zhao Lie Back to Xiangyang on an Autumn Night"), "White clouds rise to the west" To remind you to return home, the flow of Yingshui eastwards is a sign of farewell" (Liu Changqing's "Farewell to Sicang Li Wan in Yingchuan"). The river here not only provides the poet with a medium to express his feelings, but has become the incarnation of the poet's emotions.
Poets especially like to use flowing water as a metaphor for sadness. The continuous flow of water is just like the lingering sadness. There are countless famous sentences and articles in this regard:
The mountains are covered with red flowers, The spring water of Shujiang River beats the mountain flow. The bonus fades easily like a man's will, and the water flow is infinite like Nong's sorrow. (Liu Yuxi's "Bamboo Branch Ci")
The carved railings and jade inlays should still be there, but the beauty has been changed. How much sorrow can you have? Just like a river of spring water flowing eastward. (Li Yu's "Poppy Poppies")
Cut the knife to cut off the water, the water will flow more, and raise a cup to eliminate the sorrow and make it more sorrowful. Life is unsatisfactory in this world, and the Ming Dynasty will be ruined.
(Li Bai's "Farewell to the Secretary Shu Yun at Xuanzhou Xie Tiao Tower"))
The infinite flow of water is a metaphor for the length of sorrow; the spring water of a river is a metaphor for the depth of sorrow; the wonderful metaphor of cutting off the water with a knife is also written. The poet's sorrow is like water and difficult to cut off. Both use water as a metaphor for melancholy. The three poets looked at it from different angles and appropriately established an association between melancholy and the similar characteristics of water. Their poems have also become timeless poems describing melancholy.
In fact, flowing water is just flowing water, isolation and communication are just the feelings of the poet, and being sentimental and ruthless is not the property of flowing water. It is just the feeling of separation, the feeling of poets, and the feeling of worldly people.