Every time I pass by the Pearl River at the end of the year, I can always catch my breath when I am buried by the vulgarity of the city. The neon in the distance sticks to the bridge wall, changing into attractive beauty, making the small bridge on the Pearl River as crystal clear as a curved crescent moon and as delicious as a rainbow after a summer rain. People returning home are rapidly flowing out of the city, giving people no sense of belonging. The asphalt pavement in the sunset is wet and cold, and the lights of blue, yellow and red are flashing, which is mechanically and alone compatible with the footsteps of passers-by in a hurry.
The road ahead is long, and some burdens are too heavy to bear, so just leave them behind. After countless parting, I have swallowed the sad songs in the coldest years, and there is no longer so much compassion, so I set out resolutely and walked on this road full of happiness without hesitation. With the eyes moved by happiness rising hot, as long as you can look straight. Smile and look at the current fortress of joy, as long as you keep your heart warm enough. I see, when many cities give up their journey, they are projected in the last seemingly invisible corner behind them, gently sweeping and drifting, as if they were completely ignorant, and as if they were everywhere. I feel as if I have been seen by you, or I may have ignored you.
Coming and going through many cities, strolling through many wide and narrow roads, the deeds between the heads disappeared in the lost way after turning around and were forgotten in strange places. Some people and things appeared just to open a door of our world and illuminate a passage of our world. Let you know how difficult it is to stubbornly search in a claustrophobic room without candlelight. There are some white truths and black shadows that appear together and set each other off. The door opened and the passage appeared. Therefore, life gets new hints and can move forward. The price you pay for this is the bag you have to carry on your body in the end. You can't stay, but you can perch on the road and let the long and short light of happiness project in the splendor of life.
Everything you have experienced needs responsibility, gratitude and forgiveness. Finally, when we set out again, there were no earthly ties, no knots, no detours, no gorgeous scenery, no muddled juice. Concise, neat, clean, complete and unique. The passion of life will be rekindled after this understanding, and happiness will bloom quietly, gracefully and quietly, just like a person sitting alone under a pear tree with white petals at the end of life, sipping tea and closing his eyes after the full moon.
Another year passed, and now I just want to go back to my hometown, near clear lake Bay, and write my own story about the Spring and Autumn Period through a pot of sake and half a page. I'll write really deep. It twists and turns, and then on the other half page, it is full of wandering that ignores time when the years are best and forgets time when the years are quiet. It's full of carved columns and fine paintings, half of which are cool roads and half of which are treasure roads.
So many times when the end of the year comes, I don't feel how much I have changed, but by the end of this year, I really feel old, a little sad, a little vague and a little scared. After walking for so long, I still believe that there is always a person who will appear and retreat on time, not because of time, not because of vicissitudes, not because of stories, not because of times, not because of changes, and it is a poem. At the end of the year and the beginning of the Ming Dynasty, it was freezing and the world was faint. Miss, finely, lights, mottled refutation, happiness, simplicity, affection, harmony and beauty!
On the eve of returning home, I was lonely and ethereal, smiling, falling, tossing and turning, vaguely, vaguely and disillusioned. Ling Bo waded through the sea of flowers, covered in cold flowers, and fell to the ground inadvertently. The road ahead is bright. I continue to collect the tears and smiles contained in time and look forward to the next flower everywhere. Youth has gradually stopped on the vibrant skin, and has become accustomed to picking a wisp lightly, picking a wisp lightly and unintentionally. I hope everything will always be in my hand in this simplicity and tranquility, and those rekindled passions will once again overflow my sleeves like water and smoke. The warm wind started again, with lingering expectations. A few drops of moonlight in the west wing condensed on the balcony at the corner, and how many traces of wind and frost were stained on the skirt that was hastily lifted.
Year after year, I don't know how long the lamp of life will last. I really hope that the lit lamp can illuminate those who love me deeply. No one can keep the beautiful youth of the whole city that will never fade. Then try to live in hopeless hope, listen to a few cold flutes to lock your mind and leave a dead corner for the time being. In this life, a casual peach blossom rain is like a forgotten memory. If people get together, see through or can't see through, the past has faded, and finally the dust settles. Perhaps, only the purple sunseeker in my dream will never become a mirror and meet a beautiful encounter again. I firmly believe that this obsession will never become a mirror, and a bright smile will eventually dispel the nightmare that has been entangled for half a lifetime, go to a fateful feast, and burn life into an angelic dazzling and beautiful light ring. Life and death are rich and fleeting. Looking back at the notes of memory, they are just fleeting clouds. No matter how beautiful life is, it is just a fleeting dream. We put the gathering and dispersion down, and we are free to leave it. Qian Shan is flooded with water, and the peach blossoms are all gone, so we just forget about it. If time is still, I really want to condense myself into a silhouette, and condense the happiest time in this tranquility. This is the eternity of life.
I'll have a rest after I finish writing this page at the end of the year. Not writing too much will turn up the dust of memory and confuse my eyes. The faster time passes, the more careless you will be, and you will never get it back, and your youth will be quietly scattered behind you. The memories of those rainbows and snows, those turbulent flames, those ignorant whispers, those vows of life and death and * * *, and the honey juice collected in the morning sun have all been collected and opened from time to time, forming the present life.
A piano, a flute, a guzheng, a dream and a lifetime memory of truth. Open the window and take a deep breath. The sunshine rippled in the distance, warming cool thin in this cold winter. Life is still so prosperous, with open arms, the sun is thin, as always, indifferent, comfortable, cherish, I hope everything is fine in our life. ...