& lt 1 & gt；
The white dew is frost, and the so-called Iraqis are on the water side.
As love, literati's works have a beautiful artistic conception-
Autumn wind blows gently, reeds sway, and the heart of love is like frost and dew, like a dream. Where can I pursue it? Always keep a distance. Evening, quietly parked in my heart. I seem to see you dressing in the water, untie your long hair and fall into the water, and your beautiful face flows in the ripples of the river. I look at you from a distance, longing to be with you. You and I are just the distance of this water, looking for you along the embankment, stepping through the muddy swamp and wading through the Bihetang, but I can't find your direction.
Reed heading, reed flowers flying, cold river, flowing relentlessly. Let my heart paddle, search every inch of the coast, search every place in Sha Ting, only see egrets flying into the sky, I don't know where the Iraqis are.
The white dew is like frost, the fog is confused, and there is always your affectionate gaze in the tears of missing. Is it an illusion? You are a violet, blooming quietly in my heart lake, and I can only look at you from the other side-the bride of my dreams.
& lt3 & gt
The white dew is frost, and the so-called Iraqis are on the water side.
That is the yearning for a better world. Light a heart lamp, light up the darkness, wade across a stream and wash your heart.
Stepping into a clear stream, a clear stream, gurgling and pebbles under the stream are all clear poems. Clean water washes feet, warms the heart, moves from fog to ethereal, and a wading heart is spotless.
Some beautiful things can't be presented in reality, but they can last forever in your heart.
Often trapped in an unattainable and beautiful situation. A pursuit, a persistence, is the best comfort for suffering and pain. Looking up, those twinkling stars in the night sky, which open into tiny petals, are also gems dotted on the branches, shining above my head, jumping on the branches, talking to me gently and eagerly, making my heart empty and bright and not swallowed up by the darkness. This is what truth, goodness and beauty gave me.
When my childhood passed away, I was afraid that my heart would be turbid and my innocent and cheerful steps would jingle out a path with morning dew; Motherly love is lost, and I am afraid that the sky will fall. In the dream, the kind mother vigorously propped up a pure rain-proof sky. The world of mortals is too bright, and I'm afraid of getting lost. The first love shook the romantic feeling like family, and waved to me kindly and violently.
A strong shell can never resist the inner fragility.
& lt5 & gt
Walking through the rough and muddy, through the fog and confusion, and savoring the words of the Millennium, I came from the Book of Songs.
The white dew is frost, and the so-called Iraqis are on the water side. Follow it back, the road is blocked and long, follow it back, in the middle of the water.
The pursuit of the most beautiful, love in the heart, warm and desolate for thousands of years. The most brilliant flower is not on the other side, but in the heart.