In the vast sea of ????people, meeting each other is already an opportunity to look back five hundred times in the past life, let alone getting to know each other and falling in love. It’s just that we were not born in the ancient Tang Dynasty where flowers bloomed like brocade. But there are no ifs in life, only justs. I know that you are my ink painting of the bright moon and clear stream, and I know even more that I am your set of Yuefu poems of spring breeze and summer flowers.
Many worldly disturbances are like floating clouds, many worldly prejudices are like running water, you are my ink painting. I will hang you above my bed and watch you in the dead of night. Outside the bamboo window, the bright moon is like water, the clear stream is like ripples, and the evening breeze is blowing. You are so close to me, so close that I can touch your silky paper, but so far away, so far that I cannot wander around the world with you. Yes, I can only tie you up high with piety to cleanse my withered heart. It seems close but not close, and it seems far but not far away. I couldn't help but cry, my eyes were confused, and my heart was moved when I saw it.
The world of mortals comes and goes in a dream, meeting strangers and meeting close friends, I miss you, are you also thinking about me in the freezing winter night now? Thinking of you, do you beat your inner thoughts into sonorous whispers as always, talking about the looming sorrow? I couldn't tell whether I was grateful or moved, but my eyes always sparkled with tears. At that time, time passed ruthlessly bit by bit, and I heard your slight sigh in the wind, overflowing with tenderness like poetry; I saw the crystal tears shining in the corners of your eyes, as clear as my words, endless expressions. The deep affection, endless touching, and longing, as the night deepens, settle in the deepest place in my heart. The cold and speechless screen is the best companion for me to express my emotions; the silent late night is the best companion for me to pour out my heart; so I use words to type out my thoughts for you, and let the evening breeze convey my infinite love to me. bless.
Looking back at the journey, how many times have I waited in the deep dark night and let the wrinkled memories swallow me up, whether it is sad, sad, affectionate, or heartbroken, every page of the diary is yellowed. , it’s all a story, a past event. Carrying a heavy burden, I staggered through the lonely years and passed through the lonely time. Tears crisscrossed the face, staining the temples white. Perhaps, this is just a test given to me by God; perhaps, this is the misfortune left over from my previous life. And you, like a flash in the pan, gorgeous and soft, clasp my heart, hold my heart, and lead me to a place with a slight dawn. It seems that we have experienced a snowstorm together, and our friendship has been strengthened in the midst of adversity.
I don’t know when I started to like this silence and the smell of morning dew. When everyone is still in the faint dream curtain, sitting alone on the sofa, leaning against the railing and window, letting his thoughts run wildly, silently waiting for the pace of the morning light, gradually approaching. At this time, I can stay with words peacefully, and I can quietly think about you in the distance. Looking at the warm-hearted words, I slowly considered them, understood them carefully, and immersed myself in the lines, thinking about how much care, heartache, and hope there was hidden in them. Reading you is like reading a wonderful book carefully, like tasting rich hometown tea, like watching a touching plot, you can't stop.
Last autumn, I went to your hometown and stayed there quietly for a few days. I thought of you in the world and me on the other side. There is a kind of love, as elegant and thorough as the mist and rain in the south of the Yangtze River. With a delicate heart, walking in the winding paths and secluded places, how deep is the love in the mist and rain in the world of mortals? Feel the beautiful life with you in this mortal world. The starlight that night was not bright, but the sea of ??dreams that night was exceptionally sober.
Walking under the setting sun, the blooming warmth of time is splendid with a gentle and clear sound. Walking in the desolate ancient woods, you can feel the lingering charm of the season. The leaves falling vertically on both sides of the road explain the traces of aging. Unknowingly, the sky of this city has picked up the desolation behind the prosperity of the years. The yellow leaves fluttering in the breeze make my heart quiet at this moment. There is a faint feeling of emotion in the lake.
The flying geese are flying low, and they are crying several times. The echo in the wind is so beautiful. Looking at the lonely cens on Cangshan Mountain and the entwined branches of the ancient trees, it adds a bit of decadence. The wind makes the temples fly, and the flying long hair leads to the passionate years. A lifelong vow.
Looking back on the past, we are like travelers walking hand in hand, letting the wind blow gently from north to south. Today, it is like a dream, and it has been years since we looked back. The past drifting away with the wind, carrying the first touch of life, plays a silent movement in the flowing story, which is poignant and sad.
The world of mortals is noisy, quietly watching the years put aside the past. In a confused state of mind, writing alone the sadness in the wind, can there be a feeling that makes you sad when you touch the scene, your heart palpitates, and your eyes fill with tears? How to deal with the entanglements during this period? My heart longs for tranquility, why is it that I am not alienated from the glitz and glamour? Why? You, Qing, are your fate. Or can I never let you go? So much so that when I go to your hometown, I feel the traces of you passing by.
The years are turning dark, autumn is passing and winter is coming; in the days when you stay awake all night alone, the ice and snow are silent and the coldness of the cold night is silent. Who in your fate will dispel your far away glory? I have no regrets in this life and stick to my eternal love until death, but let my wandering footprints write an everlasting mark in the ocean of loneliness. You; how long can we hold hands? I smiled; I reached out my hand and ticked you to promise our unchanging love in this life.
Traveling all over the vast world, I feel lonely and sad. Whenever the wind of parting draws back the curtain, memories sleep on my chest. My flying thoughts revolve in the boundless time and space. My peaceful heart wakes up in the first heart of meeting. Those words explain the entire past. The handwriting is the passion hidden in the years and your gentle heartfelt words.
Flowers have fallen from the world of mortals several times. After a few years, if we meet again, will we still remember that there are still people who silently keep that promise for you? Will we still remember the old dream that was lost yesterday, and the original one? Meeting and your long waiting?
Have you ever looked back at the figures who once held hands and looked at each other? Whose words lingered in the reincarnation of the story as my face grew older and more determined? There are thousands of people in the world who tolerate me, comfort me, slander me, and laugh at me. Is there some kind of disdain behind the false persuasion? Carrying all kinds of favor, humiliation and bitterness, I laugh at my infatuation. This worldly thing cannot be separated from your care. Between the heaven and the earth, the Buddha used the posture of holding flowers to teach the world the way to achieve freedom. Venerable Kassapa responded with a smile; I was silent and no one could understand me. My world was flooded with stories. And the story has long been lost in my writing...
I look back and pause, frowning and sighing; walking in the rushing time, the traces I am looking for are scattered in the winding paths and the lost scenery of the past. . In this life, I would like to be a warm wind in winter, drifting alone in the world, carrying my long-cherished wish in this life, and the appearance of another life, just for your gentleness. From then on, the indifferent eyes could no longer look to the end, and many things in the world could not stir up a trace of ripples in my heart. How many dark thoughts and dreams were left in the wind and rain overnight, leaving old traces behind and watching the clouds and ashes scatter.