I am the Millennium tears, the water left by Nu Wa. Don't envy nine days and nights for a long time, for several reincarnation. I condensed from my heart, dripping on Xiaoxiang bamboo, and refuting it. Wounded season, carved as a flute of parting. Every time the sunset brings songs, the wind cries and the rain worries, there is always something I choke and swallow. I am sad and I will tell a bitter complaint. I rolled down from Yuhuan's cheek and looked at the screen window at dusk, and my beloved figure gradually faded away. Su Jiao has no intention of being cruel to the world, forcing fragrance to death, leaving her soul pale and turning into a dream catcher. Lonely pillow every night, cold brocade at dusk, and Cang Sang's face faded in the wind, all of which are acacia marks!
I am a willow gathering in Baqiao, and the flowers are free to fly. Even if thousands of miles stir up the east wind, how can I fill the loneliness? Who has no regrets in this life when gathering and dispersing human affairs? Telegrams connect two hearts again, unlike Meng Han in the Ming Dynasty.
I am Wu Shan Chao Yong Wu, and I am sending red beans to the south. Countless glances, he returned to his original intention and waited alone. It is spring and autumn again, and the golden lotus stumbles on the secluded mountain road, hidden deep in the green forest, and Qingxi is angry and cynical. I am Cao Jianlu from Jinling. Miss acacia, bury in peace. Have a graceful demeanour, Xiaoxiang, welcome by thousands, don't be ashamed of being young. No need to stay, love is short, and pain is not long. Go back to your thousand rivers and comfort me in a quiet autumn.
I am a silver-haired man in the distance, and I don't meet you at close range. It's too easy to tear down the magpie bridge. Jingui looks good. How many times have you tried to weave a mandarin duck play by hand and looked up across the river bank to think hard? Holding a cowherd, people will wander around the world. I am a broken wall and a dream cream, and I am a sad song. Cuifeng's fingers are soft and painful, and he is filled with emotion. Ginger, you are Yin and I am Yang, and the bridge is wishful thinking, which is also Meng Po Tang. This trip, half a life is doomed, three lives think, what is longer than the road?
I am an abandoned paper umbrella and turned into a rainbow. The bridge is broken, and there is no wind or rain in the West Lake. Lotus has a heart, which makes ripples into fish and makes Su Causeway interesting. It's the first time to cross the river without a net bottle. Don't be silly. I'm changing rain, so it doesn't matter if I don't send it. Brothel is drunk, the sun and the moon are long, how much I wake up, how much I wave! The future is far away, and I don't know the time, but it is more bitter for me to find it myself and calculate it myself. I used to watch Leng Yue wash the stone dike and Yang Liuxiao mend the jade next door. Go home, my soul is here. I hate water, Lan Zhi, and my heart will always be with me. The west wind cries at night without regret, the bronzes in the hall are broken, the frost sky reflects the residual Philippines, and the boat on the Suzhou River returns to the clouds and laughs a thousand times. Who remembers who? I'm butterfly spring from the balcony. I haven't done it for thousands of years. Spring has come, and I sleep in the same shade from summer solstice; The autumn is crisp and the bright moon hides the cold in the sky, as if it were a lifetime ago, covered by dust and dust, and the dream is hard to come true! Bath loves the rainbow, laugh at the weaver girl and worry about everything.
I am a 10-year-old girl. My mind is full of Fantine. I am crazy about joy. I am surprised in my dreams and empty! I am a withered Mochou Lake, and a string of crystal beads has not been brushed away, leaving lovers at the pillow and the two places lonely. The pigeon sings with a smile: Auntie, Auntie ... and an owl cries: I hate it! I'm Luoyang River, Du Feng. My clothes are heavy, my eyebrows are condensed with snow, and the breeze has no intention of breaking the moon. I am lonely, and I will quietly cover my temple.
I am a prosperous sea, and I am very happy now. Look at the mountains and peaks, and advise those who are outside the fetal dust to be ancient buddhas. I am a penguin in a net, disappointed in Xiahe, sad about autumn leaves, and sad at dusk like Jiang Tiankuo. Knock hard on the heart, the east window is not white, and the lights go out. I sigh in Changting. I was going to be a gentleman, and I was homesick. In the sound of the broken rainbow, your wife picked me up ... just like your tears for a thousand years, when you don't return, your vows fade. Love flies with dreams.
This life is like water in the past
In a hurry, in a blink of an eye, a year has passed, from the warm spring of singing and dancing to the lush summer, from the clear autumn of falling grass to the winter of snow and snow. Sad time flies, but also pity the people.
Ordinary days are like hourglasses, flowing in noisy or silent times. Leave a person, refuse all isolation from the outside world, and choose a quiet life. In this state, I haven't written about my love for half a year. What have I done in the past six months, and whether those dying marks and thoughts are clear, I will ignore them for the time being, as if everything had just gone away.
Good memories are a reflection of happy times. I think I am the one who suffered for a long time before catching a glimpse of happiness. The stagnant happy time is fixed in the depths of memory, even if it is overhead, it has become a lost shadow, but the feeling of staying in my heart is as blurred and beautiful as the sunset sky in this season.
I don't have much impression of the details of life. I have no courage and perseverance to record my life. Lost in your own forest, breathing in the gap between reality and ideal, maintaining a thin and ethereal emotion that you yearn for. Homesickness and tenderness often haunt me, causing insomnia to recur.
Clouds in the sky pierced the bare branches in the sky, extending to the sunset dusk, and reflected in a pool of stagnant snow in the corner of this city. Keep quiet. I've always wanted to go out and collect some scenery when snow puts on new clothes for winter, so I can enjoy it and not miss it. It's just a whim to think of it. The sudden heavy snow didn't shock my heart as expected. What's more, I can't even find the shadow of snow when I go out now, so I gave up. Many times, such an idea is convinced by yourself in the blink of an eye and then disillusioned. This really seems to be in a hurry
When meeting an old friend, there is no joy of reunion after separation. On the contrary, there is a touch of pain and melancholy under the potential calm. It's not love that bothers me these days, and I don't have more power to manage my emotions, even if I feel empty or lonely occasionally. The cave of time has corroded my mind. Even though I am reserved and noble, I still feel more and more that I am about to fall into vulgarity. Where does the wind blow? I'm afraid I can't hold this piece of sky after all and fall down in a hurry. It is impossible to predict how miserable and sad it will be waiting for you.
The prosperity and neon buried in my heart are already ruins. There is no one in the rustling sun. Deep love, affection as soon as possible, fleeting time, past, hurry, hurry, all that's all.