Everywhere is the crisp cuckoo, the euphemistic oriole and the lingering bamboo chicken.
The vigil hunter came back, and Liu Di trembled in the morning breeze.
When the child came out of the pasture with drowsiness, the dew tripped the buffalo bell.
The buddy carrying the plow shouted greetings gruffly.
The village girl carried water, and Xiaoqueer spilled it all the way and liked it faintly.
Tits wake up in Jiangnan, with light rain and smoke.
My heart is attached to the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River.
My hometown woke up from my dream, and the bamboo leaves trembled with the fresh morning breeze.
Walking through the ancient stone steps, there are no broken fairy tales.
Stone yard, new houses with cornices.
Children have no way to know the suffering of fern roots in those days.
And no longer bend down to pick up the money that fell.
The villagers treated me with a cup of newly picked camellia, and my heart was soaked.
Manisnya Cinta
Tits wake up in Jiangnan, with light rain and smoke.
I love the fragrant buds of wild roses at the foot of Yatou Mountain.
This cluster of wild flowers makes me a petal of incense and a half of a flower.
worried
Watching cows roll on their backs, like nephews rolling on the grass.
The misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River obscured my contemplative eyes.
These sensible children bear the hardships of their parents prematurely.
Childish eyes, flashing the desire to learn.
However, on the grassy slope, they are fighting against rude words.
Under the oil lamp, there is only a pastime of "grabbing money"
Tits wake up in Jiangnan, with light rain and smoke.
The bluestone, half hidden by the stream, is silent about my first love.
In the sentimental memory of Hedyotis diffusa, shy daffodils are quietly opening.
Barefoot, I washed in the stream and sighed.
Wash away the intimacy of childhood and the silence of today.
The path is deep, and bluegrass flowers float silently in March.
The path is warm, and the wild pomegranate ignites the hot summer.
The path carried me to grow up, and I was a little hazy under the green trees.
Tits wake up in Jiangnan, with light rain and smoke.
Tits wake up in Jiangnan, with light rain and smoke.
Fog and rain touch my picturesque south of the Yangtze River.
Osmanthus wine is brewing a realistic myth.
Joe's nectar dyed my long-hidden childlike innocence.
My heart went to the tits on the cliff.
Decorate my late spring with happiness.
Jiangnan in tits, a romantic song of rain and smoke/concubine
Romance, romance, what is romance?
The love line in my heart is like the green willow in March;
Romance, romance, who doesn't love romance?
The fruit of my thinking is like pomegranate in the Mid-Autumn Festival.
I am a man of flesh and blood,
I have a heart that will be happy and sad;
I want people's dignity, I want people's intelligence,
Don't try to steal like an ugly person!
I love the nobility of pine trees and the quietness of orchids.
Never chase the fishy smell like a fly;
I want to live a vibrant life,
I look forward to success in my career.
I am young and full of energy, roaring like the wind,
I am enthusiastic, and my surging life is like running water.
Romantic, how to understand you?
Romantic, I swear to pursue you;
Early morning-I asked Chaoyang,
At night-I stare at Beidou. ...
When daydreaming, I become a butterfly;
"Oh, does romantic love mean wandering in spring?"
Vaguely, I became a bee:
"Oh, the wind seems to be running among the flowers."
My wandering thoughts merged into the sea,
The sea says, "The wind is Bai Ou on the waves."
My imaginary wings fly to the bright moon,
Yue Ming said, "Romance means spending a pot of wine."
So I had an interesting dream.
Dreaming of many friends in life-
They all came to answer my questions,
Arguing about who was the most romantic in the 1980s.
Ideal says: "Romance and success go hand in hand."
Youth says: "Romantic style and appearance are inseparable."
Friendship said, "Romantic style is the shame of acacia flowers."
Love says, "Romance is the tender lotus root under the ice lotus."
Morality says, "Romance is the crop in my heart."
Time says, "Romance is the golden autumn in my heart" ...
Merry yo, merry, please answer:
Is this understanding shallow?
Merry yo, merry, please say:
Do you have any unchangeable standards for me to follow?