I'm waiting for you on the covered bridge
1
How many times have I been entangled in the old things of that era. You always keep the most subtle words of the year today. Even if May is the same as March, your heart exudes a charming fragrance. The abundance of spring leaves behind beauty that heats up a woman's body.
Between the walking crowds and the crowded doors, the air is soaked in enough sweat from the sun. Silent you, your charm is incomparable, and the fragrance is created because of you. No one knows how you use life to polish yourself.
Once upon a time, you had a lonely moon. It shuttles like the wind tearing apart the cloak of the sky, disappearing silently into the clear sky without taking away the clouds on the horizon. You are a foreign land in this life, but you are also your hometown in another world. As we agreed, we don’t ask for eternal life, but only for a lifetime of love. Once upon a time, you owned a small boat with fallen leaves. I just want to wait for the day when I stop at the most peaceful lake, with faith and thoughts. After several times of drifting with the tide and being caught up in the turbid whirlpool of life, I was buried in the fleeting years.
In May, you lie on a piece of white paper and sleep, you are so clear in the sun. Blue eyes, brown hair, clean container. Along the line I drew on the paper, I was surrounded by laughter. In your dreams, I talk to you again and again, wander with your body again and again, exposing your pleasant shadow.
2
Long pavilion, ancient road, waning moon, Huang Teng wine and red hands. We watch the clock with our eyes mixed with our eyes, hoping that the pendulum will stop and get rid of the order of the world. Stations, ferries and inns, even houses called home. Every time I go to an address, a blind spot in my memory, so many things are lost that I wake up. The world is getting lighter and lighter, as light as white paper, and the people whose backs are printed sigh against the embers. Your shadow is a luxury, a rare possession that can never be taken away in this life. That day, the tears of the earth hung on the sky. But the mist was too heavy, so I just waited there. In my eyes, there are your light footsteps and fragrance, and there is your peaceful face, shining with holy luster. Freeze and watch you drift away and then disappear in an instant.
I remember that day, your slightly raised head, your anxious eyebrows, your clear eyes, your lightly parted lips, and your pale and noble face after a hangover. The falling autumn leaves stop because of this, jumping along your footsteps and dancing against your pulse. With a farewell seal, leaving no space, I will never see your face again, and we will be strangers in the ends of the world. Seasons cycle, and many shadows float away. You are in my heart, but I can't bear to leave. I shake hands with my shadow and say goodbye again and again, blow out the lamp again and again, open the door, stand on the balcony and look at the stars. The moment I face you calmly, I am here, waiting forever.
You are far away in a foreign land, paddling across the vast mountains and rivers, looking into the distance. I couldn't go east, so I had to travel north and south. I stopped in the beautiful light waves of the flowing water, stopped in the moment of impact, stopped in the shaking of separation, and couldn't extricate myself for a long time.
The world is silent, and the sound of the moonlight can be heard. The warmth in the perspective blurs the seasons. You bare your arms, feeling slightly cool and slightly warm. You are just an episode in my life.
I try my best to chase your footsteps. The faster I run, the farther you go. The memory fades day by day, but the content does not shrink. Occasionally when people are quiet, they will think of the note that once jumped. Everything that should be there is still there, but the colors are no longer as bright as before. Love and affection in this world have always been like this.
Three
Wakna, back then we chose to rest on the covered bridge under the moon. Regardless of the grievances and grievances in the world, let alone what year it is, we fall in love on the covered bridge, recite poems under the moon, and light the lamp while drunk. We always believe that there will be better April days, love and beauty in the future. Don't ask about fame or fortune, just ask what love is, and regard love as your life's mission. Not talking about sorrow, not talking about vicissitudes of life, only talking about love and long-lasting love for children. Even the rolling worldly dust can hardly change our clear wind and white moon.
Under the moon, you sit next to me, your breath is quiet, and my body temperature is discrete pulses. There is still a physical distance between you and me. We stayed on the covered bridge for a whole night. At midnight, we walked through the lightly rainy streets, cutting out the walking shadows along the way and pasting them on the window glass facing the street to record the undercurrents in the dark night. I feel you peeking at me in silence. Your transparent breathing is like a heavy note falling. You open up your inner blood and create your last cold lips.
Dreams, walking alone, listening quietly on the plumb line of our age: we do not have enough leisure time to feel the splendor of flowers blooming, nor can we stop on the field path and listen to the little The first song when the grass breaks the ground, or in silence, enjoying the spectacular scenery of a sunset.
We are immersed in the privacy of that moment, and feel the stunning scenery and quiet romance. Life is so fleeting, and Wakna’s beauty and purity continue virtually in my life. It's like a sharp sword stuck in my heart that can never be pulled out. I really want to modify the moonlight tonight. The shadows of the trees beside the wall are swaying left and right in the microwave. I drag my tired body through the rivers and lakes.
Even if you wait for the next autumn to walk on the branches, will the last light be on on the way home? Without you holding support, warmth, and heartbeat in my hand, I am pale, empty, and unconscious. My lonely soul is burning in my life, and with a heart of bitter love, my eyes are wandering in a quiet and beautiful space.
The candlelight of one's soul, one's memory, one's singing. In the dazzling eyes, a day disappears, a month has no shadow, a year disappears, and before I can feel it in ten years, you have disappeared...
I often read the paragraphs of time and write the next article A motto of love. A pear tree stood quietly on the branches. Are you waiting for a spring breeze? Are you waiting for a spring rain? Or are you waiting for someone's familiar footsteps and her eyes? Or is it waiting for someone, waiting for her beautiful figure that has not changed for more than ten years despite being thousands of miles away?
Four
How many times have I seen a starry night in my dreams? The stars are as close as my breath, but I don’t know that we are seeing each other. In fact, we are thousands of miles apart. Year. Shout, Wakna—I am your lover! I don’t want to be like a snail carrying the cross, which is difficult and painful.
Love is just a momentary decision, but it has haunted me for the rest of my life. Life is always passing by. The world of mortals is so heavy and the shadows are so deep. When everything can never come back, I understand: how touching it was in the past... You rushed from a young student to youth and middle age, and passed through time, as innocent and brilliant as a child.
In the evening colors of the rose garden, you go to a life appointment and pour out the old grudges and sorrows in your body. Under the winter moonlight, I drink the wine of farewell and endure the suffering in the withering. In your tearful eyes, your last love is as vast and immortal as the sea. Neither sad nor happy. This vastness and silence cannot accommodate your converted soul.
The years are silent, only the heart as promised. That passionate woman suddenly looked back in the sunshine. What do you want to tell me in your erratic eyes? One day, the sea will dry up and the rocks will rot. We promise never to stop. Now, eight thousand miles away from the clouds and the moon, you and I are on our own side. I heard distant breathing, distant thoughts and a touch of love. I wonder if there is a habitat for dreams in that distant place? Even if I turn into an umbrella, I can't go through thick and thin with you. Only our child is as pure and beautiful as a swan.
Too much love, too much tiredness. My heart is getting tighter every time; my worries are getting more serious every time. Because you are in your own country, waving your hand, how far your love is. I turned my back and couldn't bear to see you in the mirror, so sad.
How many times have I looked up and how many times have I missed you. As you gradually fade away, the shadow of the person you love has long been blurred, cold, intense, firm and quiet. The wrinkles on my heart and exterior are burying my past bit by bit.
Still on this street. After a long, long separation, you came into my eyes. It's still the same as in the dream, but more real than the dream. You said we would meet again. After that, I counted the days carefully. The expectant gaze was also stretched by the sun and the moon. In the unpredictable ups and downs of the years, your figure is getting closer and closer, slowly approaching me with a warm and ambiguous light. Why did fate involve you and me? I can see the treasure in your eyes.
To meet you today was my dream yesterday, and you walked away in a hurry.
Five
I'll wait for you on the covered bridge.
Looking at the dark sky, I burst into tears. I am burdened with an overwhelming amount of love and have stumbled beyond the threshold of marriage. With the days of my life stacked up, there is no choice. There are many strong and weak relationships in the world, and the people and things in the past, people and things, have all disappeared over time and changed their original appearance. Time changes people's faces day by day. When the breath of youth is getting farther and farther away from you, age tells you that what should not be forgotten is forgotten, and what should be forgotten is always dazzling in front of your eyes.
I'll wait for you on the covered bridge. The grass is lower, the river bed is lower. The cruel life and the confusion of fate are in the lower place. Your stubborn and humble love has been waiting for thousands of years. That year, drifting away. Meet. And love. For our encounter and beauty. A poem burns for us with our heads down, for the soul and body that are hollowed out after passion. All the procedures are not refined, and the tension is too simple. That is blooming, blooming again and again.
I'll wait for you on the covered bridge. Standing at the intersection of years, it’s like facing the next annual ring. Expectation and waiting; bitterness and sweetness.
The pendulum clock and hands of time, our distance has always been far away from each other's breath. So close to the end of the world is because we fall in love with looking through the autumn water. We like its rippling, clear and spotless nature. You rush through a period of human scenery, but still stick to your pure essence, and interpret the joys and sorrows of separation and separation in other people's stories. Since you left in that autumn, my thoughts have drifted away with the leaves, leaving only dry branches. Throughout the winter, I stood in front of the thoughtful plum blossoms, waiting for you!
My place has become the other shore, and your place has become my destination.