I remember the light in your eyes, like the blue-and-white porcelain I personally burned, shining with soft and elegant light, as fresh as the sunset after the rain. Thinking of your eyes, I can't help but put down my pen and outline the blue-and-white embryo, and the nib turns from thick to light. But it also reminds me of the dusty past, tears dripping on the porcelain bottle, which leads to a long, long, bitter and bitter story …
Every time I draw a peony on a bottle, I always sneak a look at you, because in my opinion, no matter how beautiful the peony is, it is not as beautiful as when you first put on makeup. I secretly got up early and rushed to the market dozens of miles away, bringing you a touch of sandalwood. And you took the sandalwood with a smile and turned into the boudoir. After half a cup of tea, Ran Ran sandalwood floated out of the window, and I immediately knew your girlish heart.
Craftsmen who burn blue and white porcelain are also good painters, because we always draw new patterns and styles on paper. Every time I draw a pattern, I always draw your smile with the pen tip, and the pen is halfway through. Master walked past me, always smiling, shaking his head, trembling and walking away with a sigh, as if he owed me.
My favorite is to burn the maid pattern, and the charm of the glaze rendering of the lady figure is hidden by me privately, because I know who the maid I painted is. And when you hold a blue-and-white porcelain bottle in your hand, your smile is like a beautiful bud in bud, still stained with morning dew, shining in the soft light of the morning.
I didn't even notice that it was getting dark outside the window. Colorful landscape paintings seem to leap into the sky, and the drizzle covers the sun, the moon and the stars. It seems to tell me that I will never see you again in my lifetime. I am waiting for you. It's dusk again. Although there is no sunset, the smoke in the kitchen is still rising. I hope that the smoke from this kitchen can reach my yearning for many years across the river. Although I am over 70 years old, I wonder if you are still alive.
At the bottom of the blue-and-white porcelain bottle, I carefully wrote the official script of the Han Dynasty and made a brief biography, which is the foreshadowing of meeting you but not being together for a lifetime!
The rain gradually stopped, the voice became soft, and the sky turned blue, as if waiting for another misty rain, while I was waiting for you alone. The moonlight in the dark jar in the yard was salvaged, and the broken full moon was dizzy, as if the ending could only be short and broken for a long time. The faint, trembling moonlight is like blue and white porcelain handed down from generation to generation. No matter how the years change, they are proud and beautiful, just like my love for you. I know it can't really bloom like a peony in glaze, but I insist on my opinion and maintain my infinite love for you.
Take another look at your beautiful image in the water with a smile in your eyes. In the huge inky water tank, koi fish, with white flowers and green flowers, swam around. I always like to draw koi fish at the bottom of the bowl, just because you like it best. Whenever I copy the Song Dynasty, I always think of you. The secret you hide in my heart is as delicate as an embroidered needle falling on the ground, and it is clear and silent to everyone, but it is like mercury pouring down to me, and the falling of silver beads makes my heart beat. It was another sleepless night of lovesickness, and the rain came as promised, like an old friend, accompanying me, an old man tortured by missing.
The banana outside the curtain caused a shower, and the knocker you replaced after you got married was covered with thick copper rust. In the splash-ink landscape painting of Guanghua bottle, you are hidden in the depths of ink, leaving only the tears of my life. ...