Accompanied by your cold figure, it permeates the wild hillside.
Inadvertently touched the distant cold current.
Even your gentle smile is covered with layers of dark rhyme.
The rolling clouds can't escape the agitation of wild geese flapping their wings.
Wandering fantasies always tremble on the branches of seasonal changes.
Forgotten memory hourglass with some clear lens conversion.
Come, go, gather and disperse, and it is so close at hand.
The beautiful weather-beaten face of yellow leaves rolled into the dust.
Doesn't she want to be taken away by the Siberian cold wind?
The figure of the tree in the painting is no longer so swaying and colorful.
Break the watercolor paintings collected in memory season by season.
You still can't walk out of the last barrier in the landscape.
Or pick up the fragments of memory and crush them over and over again?
I don't want the chill to flow through my tender bones in late autumn.
With your fragile voice, roll up the mat in the pool of residual lotus
Inadvertently looked at the trickle of clear springs in the mountains around.
Even your pale words are full of poetry.
Butterflies under the clouds can't escape the flapping of late frost.
The ideal of seeing the sea is always a trek over mountains and mountains.
Mottled memories filter out some long-term yellowing.
The combination of entry and exit is' urgent is the end of the world'.
In the mud, there is a dark fragrance in the red, splashing nose and pouring ink.
He still has a aftertaste, doesn't he want to be soaked by autumn rain?
The color of the flowers in the lens is still so charming.
The memory in the collection is pale and weak, and it has become blurred.
You are still hiding in the last rain.
You have to pick up the dream in your memory, crush it, pack it and then pack it.
Put on flowers all the way, hold hands all the way, and walk alone with birds singing.
There are petals on it, and Xue Mei secretly scented it with the fragments of fallen flowers.
Even if there are only vague shadows and wordless expectations.
My heart is still wandering in the lonely footsteps.
In the season, flowers bloom, snow falls and snowdrifts merge into samsara.
Meeting and parting on the ferry, smiles and tears in amorous feelings.
Who forgot his oath, who unveiled the impetuous veil.
I spent a wonderful dance on the last stage of the observation deck in the last winter.
The thoughts of the package are trapped, and the memories are exiled in the light dance.
The melody played back by the dusty past has completely reached its limit.
Who is complaining about the looming ambiguity and still staring?
Who didn't look back and hinted that we would never meet again?
You are still rock-solid, squatting under the stone lion at the door to watch.
I can't bear to tear up that little love story in your memory anymore.