My body is a barren soil implanted with blood, so I hope in my dream that sunshine, dirt and dew will give birth to my life, which includes breathing and longing. I will jump into the blue river of life with a blue smile.
On that day, the wind was still howling day and night, and the pearl green branches were still showing off the waves of green waves. Only the river flowing far away washed away the ruthlessness of falling flowers and diluted the chaotic thoughts. The joyful voice kissed all the waves in the gravel, and the years recorded the gentleness of the river.
My body is like an old ship, battered by the greedy tide tip. The beach covered the vain hull, but the waves washed the scarred wound with clean spray again and again. I am sleepy, and let the salty sea water drown my heart on the beach.
Many times, my body is a quiet soil, with a gray dream without flowers and fruits. In the season of concluding a beautiful wreath, I banished the petals of my youth and hastily inlaid a drop of pure tears, but there was no bitter fragrance that touched me. My life walked in the cloudy sky, and from then on, the blue sky did not shed painful tears, but the petals of my youth were inlaid with beautiful garlands in the cloudy sky.
The river gurgled and repeated the old days, rushing across the worn-out threshold, and a wandering abandoned child was crying. I don't know if this is my previous life, but it's just a clear pain in my heart, or just the memory of my childhood tearing my suffering heart.
Spring awakens the stiff earth with birdsong. I am a pigeon whistle flying across the sky in spring. The crisp sound of pigeons gently awakened my dream. Ploughshares stirred the passion of spring soil, and the warm wind finally softened the oasis land. Spring sprouted in my body a little bit, and a long-term expectation played the strong sound of dawn before and after dawn.
When the thin palm of my hand held up my slim body and spread light that day, I heard the silent winter quietly leaving and my life woke up in the early morning sunshine. A blue sunflower depicts my life direction at dusk and dawn. I grew up in the rain curtain. I was hungry, sucking flowers, sunshine, rain and morning light.
You seem to be a magnificent banyan tree, with the arrogance of whistling and complaining, crossing the curved smoke of sunflowers and coming to my side. My cut figure sprinkled a touch of pale blue moonlight on the lake, and the ripples were calm. You stare deeply at the sadness in my eyes, and the cold moonlight becomes soft. My elegant skirt enriches the cycle of life season after season in your focused eyes, and I am a melancholy one.
You hang your warm smile on my trembling heart, and let me remember, remember and last for a lifetime.
You carve the tender words of concern into my silent heart, and I will turn it into a classic chapter word for word.
You played the fate of my life for me with the strings of poetry, and I released my loneliness and listened with fiery feelings.
My life overflowed the sleepy waiting, drifted across Yuan Ye where the north wind roared, and ran with you on the long shore of the century. I forget my gray years. Every time it rains in Mao Mao, I always feel sad. I shed tears of pain with the sky. I am no longer a melancholy seed. I cultivate a lush flower in barren soil and take root in your generous chest.
My long hair bypassed the soft blue moon and I sat on the floor. Your gentle eyes caress my long hair and weave your vows in my hair. I heard you. Your wild heartstrings are playing a crazy song of love for me, and your eyes are pouring into the Blue Moon River.
I can't help but wonder whether the pace of your life is as hard, as sad and as hard as mine.
Always explore whether your deep eyes are engraved as the chance of your first meeting, whether there is the grandeur of your hometown, and whether there is the fragrance of a tree of Sophora japonica in the courtyard.
Always leaning against the distant window lattice, I cast my homesick eyes on the direction of your figure, the direction of your home, and the secluded path you walked.
I will recite silent poems and let the starlight on the dome bring you. At that time, the source of silence in spring opened an exciting river for me. The acidity of my youth dissipated with the river, and there is a deep mark on my forehead, which is the witness of our love in this life. Every time you are silently moved, tears bloom into an autumn chrysanthemum.
I hold the roses you picked with dew in early spring. The delicate petals exude the delicious food when you pick them, and the condensed air echoes at your fingertips. You said that you have been looking for someone who is destined for roses all your life. Unexpectedly, Iraqis are among the graceful waves, and you will cherish today's roses.
My tears turned into butterflies in roses, dancing with you in the vast sky, surrounded by flowers, and the sad dance drama dragged its black tail away from our happiness. I know that from now on, I am no longer the abandoned seed, and cherishing the rain and dew will not hurt. A brilliant sunrise has risen in the Haihe River of my life.
I hang down my eyes that are easy to reveal my worries, leaving a string of blue waves without traces for you to love and cherish all your life.
You said in my ear over and over again, "My long hair is coiled up for you, and I only cut your red makeup." My drunken eyes are hazy, sleeping in your warm palm, and lotus leaves fiddle with the clear moon and bagpipes.
A season of love describes the red maple that we once set foot in Xiangshan. Every maple leaf has the feeling of yearning and sighing. I can't help but hold a slender pen and turn my full emotional complex from the end of the pen into a drop of words, so that the lost memories can be treasured and the years when we held hands in the sunset can be looked back again. The once beautiful love story was interpreted.
If God knows our long-term relationship, please tie our life's fate to this love tree, with branches and leaves falling in past lives. Our warm hearts embrace the candlelight-like relationship, and our hearts will bloom for the boundless clouds.
I stood at your window, listening to your flute like complaining. The flute conveys sentimental poems. Every chapter is our agreement to hold hands, and it is the movement of our lovesickness.
My life is full of flowers because of you, and my marriage is happy in this life.
My love affair in this life only blooms once, because you accepted the suffering of this life for me, and my flowering period will be different and colorful.
My flower of life will be beautiful because of you.