Cut for a while,
Taste an all-encompassing love and recall the past.
Between purple fog and clouds,
Ren Changfa, thoughts flying.
Along the tunnel of time, thinking about the past. ...
Let the soul escape from the noise of the world,
Skimming the scenery shallowly in loneliness.
Hold on for a few years as before.
Those air-dried In the past, happiness, anger, stupidity, or resentment. ...
On the fingertips, mottled ...
There are many feelings of calm like water,
I also have the pain of lovesickness,
It's all like a fleeting moment.
Once young and frivolous, it has fallen like a pear hedge in the last spring.
Old Liang Yan built a nest on someone else's roof.
Yesterday's swallow was rainy and the cardamom was red.
In the fleeting time of a mountain and a city, I have already changed my mind.
Who can describe that charm for me?
Willow is broken into a poor road!
Lonely and strange,
The girl with long hair,
He became a lonely traveler who likes to hang curtains and lean against dusk, pick up fallen flowers and invite the bright moon to give gifts.
The wind gently brushed my cheek, and the chill spread all over my body.
Those quiet agarwood,
It became the pure wine in my spare time.
Every sleepless night, when I look back,
Very touching.
Like to walk in the spring and autumn of pen and ink,
Spread a piece of paper with the remaining fragrance,
Weave and cut a legend of the past.
Slowly unify.
In the depths of time, whose eyes have passed through the foggy light years?
Misty spring water, pastoral piccolo, whispering? Stunning, misty rain crisp!
In the autumn sound,
On the shore, wild geese fall in the flat sand,
Wash away many feelings of parting.
The thin pen flickered in my mind.
Along the way, I picked up the broken shadows, and the clouds and hedges fell to Fanghua.
In the gossamer parting, I drifted away and the clouds were heavy.
Displaced between weak waters,
I can't see the end of the world.
Sorrow and sigh, the dream of a bosom friend is hard-won!
The clouds gathered their eyebrows and the autumn waters wept.
In the pursuit, the hand holding your hand is rich, but it has already become helpless!
That poem is very proud,
I have long been lost in my shallow understanding of the years. ...
Touch the scar under blue light,
Sanskrit night drums pray for morning bells.
Yanyu Lane is far away from yesterday's other shore. ...