The lights are glazed and the golden palace is bright, and the lonely moon is empty. Leng Xue has a thousand layers of singing and dancing, half a river rustling and half a river pity.
I am a lonely shadow in a hazy past life, watching from the other side of the cold Xiangjiang River. The lighthouse in the distance is brightly lit, illuminating half the country as bright as day, and it is getting colder and colder in the cold moonlight. The dragon boat on the river rises and falls with the river, and the dragon flag on board swings in the air. The dark and oblique lights staggered, Iraqis danced in the hazy veil, dancing alone in the cold and silent night for a lifetime of sorrow. Xiang Ying's sleeves are graceful, and the clouds are dark with blue cream. Ying Ying's dance is widely loved in the world, and it exudes fragrance and sweat in the bustling places.
Ask Iraqis softly, why is there a little sadness in the dance, which will only make people feel helpless? The Iraqi people are silent and tearful, their brows are slightly locked, and their hearts are dark. Who knows my heart, who knows the world? I will try my best to live a brilliant life, but I can't reach the moment of fleeting time. What can people do if things don't go well?
The weather is cold, the clothes are thin, the green color is thin, and the face is red. However, the flash of Iraqis is not enough. Purple gas comes from the east. Love is missing, meaning continuous, and there is a string of acacia in my heart. Long hair fluttering, stumbling, sweating, broken soul.
two
The lights are vertical and horizontal, the years are flowing, and the love of a lifetime is drifting with the wind. Once upon a time, there was love, and the sky was full of love. Leave a lifetime of love and the glory of life will be fragrant.
I turned into a breeze by the Xiangjiang River in this life, still watching by the cold river. The lighthouse in the distance is broken, and there are no dragon boats in the river. Once upon a time, glory no longer exists, and that hazy figure has long been lost in historical changes. The river is still in the ebb and flow, and a woman wearing tulle can be seen vaguely opposite, dancing alone in the cold night sky. Long sleeves flying, light footsteps, skirt folds like snow and moonlight flowing lightly on the ground, 3,000 hair swaying gently with the wind.
Ask Iraqis again, why there is no sadness in the dance, but there is some expectation? The Iraqi people just laughed and their feet moved happily. Although we look forward to the end of time, it is in vain. The love of past lives continues in this life, and the butterfly love is accompanied by two places.
Looking forward to clear eyes and blushing cheeks. Without the gold medal, Iraqis are still elegant and refined. Love is serious, love is real, and the heart has a lovesick soul. Long hair, many stumbles, meet each other, dance to the full moon.