What is the story of Cinnamomum camphora and Cinnamomum camphora? Someone whispered something in the crack of looking up and looking down.
so everything becomes very subtle. There is temperature in the eyes and moisture in the hands.
In those summer when the sky is in full bloom in a hurry, the sunshine has the most prosperous jointing stage.
She ran past him in a hurry, so the floating grass blossomed.
He waited quietly behind her, so the sunset closed the heavy door;
He and he became more and more silent in the four seasons, the past dusk and the morning that never came.
She and she walk more and more slowly in summer, and the hands that have been pulled hold the hands that have not been pulled.
Some melodies have never been sung, and some torches have never been lit.
but the world has sound and light.
So time became heavy and small, and the snowstorm easily broke the thin door.
That city has never aged. It stands in the memory and becomes the loneliness and loneliness left by no one at school dusk.
Cinnamomum camphora covers all the firmaments of the city end to end.
there are confessions ten years late in the shadows.
Oh, I'm singing. Do you hear me?
ahhh, who is singing? I heard it.
1996 Summer Solstice Color Polaris:
When the tide rushes to the ancient bank, summer connects the next summer.
how about you?
When the heavy rain swept through the village where the sun was shining, summer flooded the next summer.
how about you?
Skip the green spring, the sad autumn honeysuckle and the greener summer next year,
You appear in front of me again. Eyebrows droop. Turn around and take away the rain in a city,
and then turn around and bring back the colored snow. Wheat jointing Thunder rumbled across the earth.
You splashed ink on the broken words in the corner, thus rendering a summer without falling.
the next year is another year. But I haven't waited for a crying summer solstice. The summer solstice, which never comes all the year round.
escape the round-trip search.
he hasn't seen her.
she hasn't seen him.
no one has seen it. The summer solstice that has never been here. The world began to rain cats and dogs. The flood season is approaching.
Meet Swallowtail Butterfly in p>1997 Summer Solstice:
If we couldn't meet ten years ago. Whether we can never meet.
In the years when there was no corner of the city in the fog.
Phragmites communis germinate in sequence and then die gradually.
wings cover the sky in a hurry. There's nothing left to say.
cast the shadow of the tide along the road.
black hair dyed white. Snow is dyed black.
dyed black during the day. The night is dyed white.
the world is upside down, left and right, up and down, black and white.
then I will be your reflection.
live forever in a completely different world from you.
buried the morning twilight.
A group of gorgeous swallowtail butterflies were buried.
you are my dream.
1998 Summer Solstice, Warm Fog, Broken Array:
Time turns into red morning fog, and day and night are gradually divided equally.
I started my lonely years in a world you have long forgotten, with my eyes closed and my eyes covered,
I cheered with tears in my eyes.
if I can't see you, I can't see the whole world.
darkness engulfs tens of billions of planets like the tide. Sunflowers are dying in large areas. Migratory birds were sent to the funeral in droves.
one after another, the heavy voyage without seeing the route.
Who waved with a poker face and then cut off from the world?
what is silent is your disappointment. And your pale side face.
In fact, the world never wakes up. It sleeps quietly under the neckline of your shirt.
Bai Jun missed. The beard instantly pierces the skin of the lips. Youth is holding high the banner of hunting and catching the wind.
It turns out that you have grown up and become a king wearing a Wang Guan,
but I am at a loss to think that you are still a pale little prince.
They say that as long as there is a little prince in the world, there will always be a fox waiting for love.
When the swallows return in a hurry with green in their hands in the coming year.
Do you still bow your head under the camphor tree like the summer when you were seventeen?
Then meet me,
In that long, psychedelic and never-ending summer.
1998 Summer Solstice Sunny Day:
The world shines when it bursts, and
it attracts the once faint youth and the years separated from each other.
Dandelion gradually climbed all the hillsides, looking out at the arrival of black poems.
Those who sing legends in the circulated poems, and those who sing legends in the legends,
Those people raise countless journeys in countless eyes.
Mixed with youth and a happy past, the origin is unknown, and the way is unclear.
Only when the years return along the road, wizards paint bright gold paint and silver powder.
So the once dumb years gave birth to whistling arrow in the forest.
The once gloomy clothes instantly glowed with the white light of the crescent moon.
You were handsome when you were young, and you were silent and kind. After many years, you returned to the pure white when you were seventeen.
I was once lonely, and I became no longer lonely.
This world is a happy playground in your hands. No one can tell it to close except you.
So the sky is gorgeous and reeds linger.
You appear at the fork of the road with a bright face and black hair in white.
It's like the summer that lost the summer solstice many years ago.
1998 Summer Solstice, Clouds and Phoenix Flowers:
The flowers recorded by clouds,
the clouds decorated by flowers,
all became the dry season of the wasteland in this endless summer.
Zebras and antelopes have migrated through swarms of sand dunes,
Those silent floating grasses have been jointing on the water every year,
All the departed lives have been marked with bright red by the phoenix flowers in the last season.
ten years later, we will meet each other in the vast sea of people.
Who said that those who left, the things that left,
will come back one day.
Go the way you used to go,
Sing the songs you used to sing,
Love the people you used to love,
But you can't hate them anymore.
Those legends wander around the world, and they criticize Sunset as the proudest heroes.
Those dark gods who led people to break through the tragedy
died on the dry river bed before the next rainy season.
reeds burn into ashes and scatter to the blue sky.
22 Summer Solstice, Submerged Water and Ukiyo-e Painting:
The plane broken by time is folded into eternity by the earth's crust.
The boots left by those poets in the mountains were covered with dew at sunset.
the years that come and go reveal chapters that have not been printed.
I am reluctant to leave in the morning light, and my future is full of light and shadow.
The lying body blooms all the year round, and the body grows skin and melts into mountains and rivers.
The road you walked many years ago is now full of sad lakes.
The plateau you climbed many years ago is now sleeping in the depths of the earth's crust.
The stories of those days were all folded into a chapter of the page.
the years are not dead, but the summer is over.
people who plant flowers become flower watchers, and flower watchers become flower burials.
and that wasteland has become an oasis, which makes me unhappy.
Only your sadness or happiness can make the air amplify the sound of the rain hitting the keys.
in the dark valley, re-polish the flashing light.
Those quiet secret jungles are covered with layers of fallen leaves for thousands of years.
pearls that are shining under fallen leaves.
your eyes were blind many years ago.
22 Summer Solstice, Liulan Cherry Blossom Festival:
Those summer days that return in a hurry have disturbed the migration of birds.
the world is dark for a moment, and then it is everywhere.
The gods with no face in the sky are holding hands and singing elegies.
those thunders running in the depths of the clouds, falling fire all over the sky.
Only the original shepherd boy is left. He still stands quietly in the depths of the forest.
He still stands on the hill with a flute, blowing the dusk for a long time.
We cry or laugh, get up or sit, be clear or blind in the middle of the night.
those silk threads of fate give off cold white light.
No matter how far you look, you can't see the end of the silk thread. Who is the poor puppet?
And you, with this beautiful spring scenery, reappeared,
sown a thousand summers,
a thousand flowers,
a thousand lakes,
a thousand marshes full of reeds singing forgiveness songs,
and then, the world returned to its original peace.
The flowers and plants repeat the cycle of the four seasons, and
The sun begins to rise and fall again.
and no one remembers,
who is the priest and
who is the singer who sang the poem.
23 Summer Solstice, Vortex and Doomsday Light:
Those discrete years,
come back to me.
those dim twilight,
wrapped around my heart.
The past that once died was harvested again in the wheat field.
resentment that grows at the sun's anger,
also thrives.
Those unknown hatred and vague love
all woke up in this summer, which was delayed but finally arrived.
the sky is gone, and the clouds are moving in silence, bringing the news of the return of the monsoon.
and who kissed his face silently many years ago.
Those lanterns blown in the wind, yellow white paper can't paste the light needed in the darkness.
Who can lend me a pair of sharp eyes,
to illuminate the dark and long road ahead.
who can lend me wings?
who can take me soaring.
23 Summer Solstice Reed Short Matsuoka:
Those summers that bloom in memory,
a whole flower is scattered in the years.
all songs lose their notes in an instant, and the world loses its hearing.
all colors lose their luster in an instant, and the world loses its vision.
and you are still standing in the quiet black-and-white picture.
those years that ran away in a hurry,
they came back again.
But you ran away in a hurry, but
disappeared from my world.
they say those are legends.
is that you?
those stories they told,
were they you?
Are those tears and years remembered in the shadow of Cinnamomum camphora
young and impulsive?
The end of the p>25 summer solstice:
What we thought happened never happened.
those who we thought loved love us forever.