"Jiangnan is good and the scenery is old. When spring comes, the sun rises from the river, the flowers on the river are brighter than red, and the green river is greener than the blue grass. Can you not remember Jiangnan? "
The willows are swaying and the water waves are rippling. Holding bamboo poles or boating, pushing away thousands of waves and rippling on the green waves in the south of the Yangtze River. On both sides, there are blue tiles and white walls, and willow branches hang down from the treetops into the water and into the hearts of the boat. Smoke from kitchen chimneys rises, thousands of miles away from the river, the distant green hills are reflected in the quiet lake, and there is a faint fragrance of moss. Put aside the noise of reinforced concrete, forget the hustle and bustle of fast-paced life, and come for a walk in the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River.
When the first spring rain watered the earth, it was the most beautiful time in Jiangnan water town. Continuous raindrops slid down the eaves, and rows of rain curtains splashed on the ground, which made the color of the green flag dizzy. The spring rain is falling, the cherry is red and the banana is green. Melodious piano music came from the alley on the street, accompanied by the sound of raindrops, "humming and whispering-and then intertwined, like pearls of all sizes pouring on a plate of jade."
Walking on a long old street, a girl with lilac-like sadness walked by with an oil-paper umbrella and humming a soft tune of Wu Nong. She was like a gauze in Tsing Yi, drifting away. The mottled walls left their marks year after year. Rows of houses are neatly arranged, and the eaves are slightly raised, which seems to be a beautiful smile. Misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, the years are old
"Jiangnan is good and the scenery is old. When spring comes, the sun rises from the river, the flowers on the river are brighter than red, and the green river is greener than the blue grass. Can you not remember Jiangnan? "
The willows are swaying and the water waves are rippling. Holding bamboo poles or boating, pushing away thousands of waves and rippling on the green waves in the south of the Yangtze River. On both sides, there are blue tiles and white walls, and willow branches hang down from the treetops into the water and into the hearts of the boat. Smoke from kitchen chimneys rises, thousands of miles away from the river, the distant green hills are reflected in the quiet lake, and there is a faint fragrance of moss. Put aside the noise of reinforced concrete, forget the hustle and bustle of fast-paced life, and come for a walk in the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River.
When the first spring rain watered the earth, it was the most beautiful time in Jiangnan water town. Continuous raindrops slid down the eaves, and rows of rain curtains splashed on the ground, which made the color of the green flag dizzy. The spring rain is falling, the cherry is red and the banana is green. Melodious piano music came from the alley on the street, accompanied by the sound of raindrops, "humming and whispering-and then intertwined, like pearls of all sizes pouring on a plate of jade."
Walking on a long old street, a girl with lilac-like sadness walked by with an oil-paper umbrella and humming a soft tune of Wu Nong. She was like a gauze in Tsing Yi, drifting away. The mottled walls left their marks year after year. Rows of houses are neatly arranged, and the eaves are slightly raised, which seems to be a beautiful smile. In the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, the years pass silently, the wind blows across the bridge and the clear water, and the guqin is leisurely, telling the old things accumulated in the Millennium.
In the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, there is no endless sorrow of "the old vine faints the crow", there is no heroic and tragic "how many people fight against the ancient times", and there are only graceful and restrained "cardamom ci works, brothel dreams are good". In a small city in the south of the Yangtze River, the alley is like a girl in a boudoir, hidden and secluded, which seems endless at first glance. These alleys are winding, and moss crawls on them at will. After the unaccompanied dusk, a person walks into a quiet deep lane, wandering quietly and telling himself what he is thinking. Immerse yourself in your own world, listen to your footsteps, and let your heart be integrated with nature. In this intoxicating moment, there are endless dreams and endless dreams.
Walking in a small town in the south of the Yangtze River, even time will become very slow. At the beginning of the lights, an elderly couple sat in front of the courtyard, watching the sun set and recalling the past vividly. From sunrise to dusk, another year old is haggard, and after stepping all over the green hills, we grow old hand in hand. Came to the sloping arch bridge, waterfront pier, the evening wind blew the sound of willow flute. A thousand words of advice, people who are about to leave accept the blessings of relatives and friends, and the smile on their faces instantly becomes eternal ... If I were a painter, I would dip in ink painting and draw a beautiful Jiangnan landscape; If I were a writer, I would write a colorful long scroll, writing all the lingering in the south of the Yangtze River.
The lanterns reflect the moon like yesterday, listening to the laughter on the bridge, and the bow is wet and has pushed away the pleats. Jiangnan is like a graceful girl, wearing a swaying green radish skirt and smiling slightly, walking into your heart.
The moon is silent, the wind blows across the bridge, the clear water blows, and the guqin is long, telling the old things accumulated in the Millennium.
In the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, there is no endless sorrow of "the old vine faints the crow", there is no heroic and tragic "how many people fight against the ancient times", and there are only graceful and restrained "cardamom ci works, brothel dreams are good". In a small city in the south of the Yangtze River, the alley is like a girl in a boudoir, hidden and secluded, which seems endless at first glance. These alleys are winding, and moss crawls on them at will. After the unaccompanied dusk, a person walks into a quiet deep lane, wandering quietly and telling himself what he is thinking. Immerse yourself in your own world, listen to your footsteps, and let your heart be integrated with nature. In this intoxicating moment, there are endless dreams and endless dreams.
Walking in a small town in the south of the Yangtze River, even time will become very slow. At the beginning of the lights, an elderly couple sat in front of the courtyard, watching the sun set and recalling the past vividly. From sunrise to dusk, another year old is haggard, and after stepping all over the green hills, we grow old hand in hand. Came to the sloping arch bridge, waterfront pier, the evening wind blew the sound of willow flute. A thousand words of advice, people who are about to leave accept the blessings of relatives and friends, and the smile on their faces instantly becomes eternal ... If I were a painter, I would dip in ink painting and draw a beautiful Jiangnan landscape; If I were a writer, I would write a long book in color, writing all the lingering in the south of the Yangtze River.
Lanterns reflect the moon like yesterday, listening to the laughter and laughter on the bridge, and the wet bow has pushed open the folds. Jiangnan is like a graceful girl, wearing a swaying green radish skirt and smiling slightly, walking into your heart.