Riding on the breeze, the moon is loose. Relying on the sunset alone, telling a lifetime. Write some parallel prose and sing some parallel prose. Gently close the door, and the afterlife will be bleak. Those mottled poems are deposited on the wall of history. The more you read a poem, the thicker it becomes, the thinner it becomes, and the lighter it becomes.
So, in this clear water and autumn clouds, I forgot my past fate. ...
Moonlight night, short matsuoka. I hate the end of the world, and dusk goes against the sunset. What kind of mentality is that? Never think, never forget.
Lying quietly in the wind, watching you brush through the clouds. Like a private whisper. Quietly passed by my ear. In a flash, it disappeared without a trace. The letter is splashed with ink, and the beautiful long and short sentences are outlined with heart. Unconsciously, I was used to Leng Yue Changfeng and forgot the changes of the world. ...
I think we have met. Otherwise, why are your blurred eyes always lingering? You chose the night and invited Xiaoyue in the mountains. But how can the moon read your loneliness? The moonlight is too cold, and the coolness slips through your heart. Who ever worried that your life as thin as a butterfly coat was unbearable? So, you fantasize that you are a pure and beautiful poem, which gradually fades away in the clear water and autumn clouds. ...
Like a pot of scented tea. Unlike fragrant jasmine, unlike leisurely Pu 'er. Just a pot of scented tea. Flat and light, you can taste the world. Bitterness slowly drops from your mouth. What remains in my heart is the endless fragrance. People seem to be drunk, hazy and unwilling to wake up for a long time. ...
Tea should be managed, and wine should be drunk. I put my glass in front of you, but why don't you drink it with me? Let it be! Let it be! You don't need to drink this muddy wine made of pine flowers ... You know what I mean!
Do you remember what you once said to me? ...
A cup of tea, a pot of thin wine, a lifetime of youth, a lifetime of booze …
A wisp of empty incense is here, and it is difficult to heal in the empty place.
Even if we met, how could we not know? Dust, temples like frost. ...
You know: you are my past life …