Spring has returned, look at the spring streamers curling up on the beauty’s head. Unexpected wind and rain have failed to absorb the remaining cold. When I was young, I expected that tonight I would dream of going to the West Garden.
The smoked plum blossoms stain the willows, and the east wind never rests; the grass and trees are frosted, and the materials are steep and the cold spring brings new green.
Standing on the spring street, bathed in flowers and rain, the spring sun is gorgeous, and the city is captivated at a glance.
The years are carefree and leisurely, and the flowers are blooming till they are in full bloom. The pear blossoms are like snow, the peach blossoms are scorching, the apricot blossoms are lightly raining, and the willows are painted on the bridge.
Waiting for a tree to bloom, warming a cup of light wine, the breeze passing by, blowing the beauty of the world, and feeling the love of spring.
In the ordinary alleys, half of the city is filled with mist and rain, a curtain of flowers has fallen, and in the curling smoke of cooking stoves, there is a picture of the world of fireworks.
The spring is late, the flowers and trees are luxuriant
Feng Tang: The spring water is born, the spring forest is blooming, and the spring breeze is not as good as you.
Light greenery meanders through the branches, and the faint fragrance of flowers flows under the corridor. The sunshine in early spring is warm, the spring breeze is gentle, the clouds are curling slightly, and the grass and trees are slightly swaying.
The warmth of spring fills the rivers and mountains, time makes shadows, the grass and trees are smoking, the wind is gentle, the willows are slanting, the spring water is slightly rippled, and the poems are new and people are old.
As soon as I turn around, the story of time begins; when I look back, I write down the colorful wanderings of the bitter and joyful years.
Sitting under the eaves of time, holding a book, reading a poem, making a pot of tea, bathing in a ray of sunshine, listening to an old song, moving your fingertips slightly, as if you can touch the time. Love silk.
The most beautiful spring I have ever seen is when you carry flowers and willows, walk through the crowd, shake off the dust from your clothes, and walk slowly. It was a season of flowers and passion, and your smile lit up the spring breeze all around.
The years are passing by, the past is messy, the plain colors are fleeting, untainted, the beauty is still the same, but that person is no longer there, as bright as a peach blossom, as warm as the spring sun.
Some people say, if you don’t come, how dare I grow old.
It’s just that the golden years often rush people, destroying beauty and youth. The mist and rain are still picturesque in front of the window, and the plum blossoms are still like snow, but there is no one beside you to watch the flowers with you.
The spring branches say goodbye to the old years and a ridge of snow; the night is dark, and the past is light in the palm of the hand.
If you are here, it will be the most beautiful spring scenery in the world.
There is a kind of understanding called being out of time. Even if time goes by and the sea changes, you are still the warmest sunshine in my heart and the most beautiful scenery in my memory.
There is a kind of earthly fate, which is called the year of flowing water. The breeze blows over the plum vase, and when the words in the heart turn to ashes, the rain hits the banana trees, and the flowers in the deep courtyard are messed up, and the love lasts a lifetime.
After all the wind and smoke, and the fleeting years, I only want one person to accompany you to see all the scenery in the world, to accompany you to live in peace and joy, and to accompany you in the long flowing water.
Who will miss the flower trade wind?
"Who will miss the flower trade wind": There is an agreement between flowers and wind. Every year from January to May, there are twenty-four winds. When the wind blows, one kind of flower blooms; once the plum blossoms bloom, the camellias bloom twice, the daffodils bloom three times... until the dream of all flowers blooms. The wind is trustworthy, and the flowers are always there. It is like this year after year, and it will never fail. This kind of wind is called the flower trade wind.
Flowers trade with the wind, what a beautiful agreement. When the wind comes, the flowers will bloom gradually. This will happen year after year, and we will never fail.
A piece of spring time can save the years.
The water flows through the corridor of time, those red leaves and yellow flowers, the old jackdaw trees, those clinging to the white snow, the falling plum blossoms, those old friends in the sun, missing each other under the bright moon, all fell into a pool of spring scenery, nourishing the years. Deep love.
Only the scenery of three springs can withstand the long years and the coldness of the world.
The rain is sentimental, stained with lovesickness, moistening things silently in the slightly cold morning light; the wind also has shadows, passing through the years of spring and autumn, ruffling a pool of spring water in the lonely dusk.
The intoxicating chant of the flute breaks through the silence of the spring night and overflows with the faint fragrance of plum blossoms.
Every inch of spring light becomes softer; every minute of spring color wanders in a gentle dream.
It is said that time is silent, but the wind will remember every fragrance; it is said that time is silent, but the mountains and rivers will remember every promise.
Flowers bloom and fall, fate gathers and fate disperses. In this world of war and chaos, if you are here, it will be the best spring.
Missing is like the flowers blooming on each tree, always filling the heart at night when there is no one around.
If you understand, it is compassion.
Place all your thoughts in the light blue mist. Wait for the flowers to bloom and awaken all the love. On the branches of time, the fragrance sways.
The world is safe and the mountains and rivers are calm
The wind in spring carries the warmth of the sun; the rain in spring carries the fragrance of flowers; the water in spring carries the joy of the beginning of the season It's slightly cold; people in spring are calm and relaxed in this world.
Overnight, the distant mountains were dyed with light smoke, and the lake water rippled, like a veil blowing on the face, as beautiful as a newly laid out picture scroll, with freehand landscapes, thick ink and light, clear and shallow.
The spring rain is like crisp, and in the light mist, you can't see the long scenery of the world, but it is moist with the cool past.
A wisp of breeze blew away the frost under the eyes, paving out a green picture of early spring; a branch of pear blossoms, carrying the rain and dew from last night, rustled down.
The story goes through the loneliness and depression of winter, and the beauty is shaken in the spring sun, brewing a bright and elegant feeling.
I always believe that those who have walked through the mist and rain of the plain lake, and experienced the sun, moon, mountains and rivers, those who have beautiful scenery in their hearts will surely be able to bloom into landscapes and fall into poems, gently accompanying the years.
When spring fills the world and flowers fall, all the good things will come as expected.
Perhaps this year has not been easy for us all. The epidemic is still there, and we feel sad, lonely and worried.
But I still believe that after walking through the clear water and long sky, and walking through the past like smoke, this spring will not let you down, it will be like meeting old friends again, with the familiar warmth.
While the spring is just right, while the spring breeze is not dry, temporarily exile your heart, go enjoy a pool of spring water, watch a flower bloom, and be brave enough to do what you want to do. Don't leave too many regrets in life.
Throughout this journey, the warmest thing was the hug under the peach blossom tree that day; the most unforgettable thing was the faint smile at the corner of your mouth.
When everything passes, spring will be with you.
The flowers are not over yet, but the mountains and rivers remain the same. I plant the fragrance of flowers along the way at the ferry of time.
The wind has an appointment, and the flowers are always the same. They are like this every year, and they will never fail.