On a rainy night, a ray of soft moonlight leaps affectionately into the cold window. Under the twilight, the unhidden light is like water, spreading along the depths of the years and falling in lonely corners. Under the guidance of the hour hand, I am looking for the leisurely and unfinished time. Life is a one-way journey, a gathering and separation of sorrows and joys, and the practice of pure water Zen along the way.
In the world of mortals, how many emotions have failed to live up to the gift of time and bypassed the gift of time. Hide a frame of discrete thoughts deeply. Let the pale wind blow through the silence of midnight, gently slide on the edge of the lonely window, lift the thin curtains, and I can deeply understand your ravings in the flickering light. If I hadn't met you in this life, how could there be that familiar figure in my eyes, and those countless days and nights.
Time, like dust, has wiped out many extravagant hopes. However, we will still look affectionately into the distance in the remaining light of the moonlight on this night after the rain, not knowing that the once warm temperature can How long to save. Flipping through the pages of time with the wind, you have gone too hastily on this journey. Before we had time to say goodbye, those unfinished thoughts have been buried in the dust of the years. In this plain time, it settled into a swamp of resentment.
A window of deep love is often remembered tenderly. In the clear and sparse shadows, a touch of poetry fades out. I gently spread out a piece of plain paper and quietly folded a page of long-cherished wishes in the watery moonlight. . Write down lines of poetry. I just want to continue a memory in my dream, and remember some bits and pieces in the silence and emptiness.
If I no longer read Wei Liang’s poems, can I still find the peace and warmth I once had? Can you still feel the randomness you once had? I am full of longings on both sides of the other shore. For a brief moment, when the breeze blows, maybe you will no longer pick up the intersection of heartbeats in the past, and can no longer hear the sultry words of love. Even if we meet, it has already been It's a silent coldness.
The best days have passed, and a little resentment is added to the silent night. The warmth of the old year, in the tiny time, writes a story that will last forever. From now on, there will be no more flowers. Totally melancholy.
Memory and annual rings gently face each other. In the world of mortals, we listen quietly to the half-volume orchids drifting into the evening, slowly fragrant. The flowers falling on the street scattered so much tranquility and sadness that I didn’t know where to extract them. So many warm fragments fell into the wind like catkins before I had time to cherish them. Only the bright red petal that fell into the lotus pond reflected a sea of ??longing.
I can only sit quietly in front of the old window, so that I can have a calm and elegant mood after the busy work, without invading secular thoughts, without being stained with sadness, and sipping the fragrance of a cup of tea in a row of poems, quietly watching Leisure time after bustling. Transform your mood into a pleasant scenery, and keep the lingering fragrance of Zen in the plain time.