Your footsteps walk into the afterglow of the sunset, and my joy will never come back.
The wind is still blowing the minuet.
Hold the halo of the setting sun on your shoulders, and the heavy memory is soaked in your long-lost smile.
The last forgotten lone goose hesitated, wailed, and finally leaned away sadly without anyone calling.
Recalling the first encounter and beauty between you and me, no matter how reluctant I am to let you go, I can’t stop you from pursuing me.
Have you really left me?
Did you leave because this poor village knew about your disillusioned past and didn’t want to face it?
You left because of the charming dance steps spinning in circles under the beautiful neon lights, and you were unable to accept the poor moonlight we once had?
You left because you would rather grovel in front of the tall buildings you look up to?
You are gone...
You are gone...
My memory is so crowded when I think about you.
In April, the years are quiet and we are by the stream. You hold a grass stem in your mouth and gently hum the song "I'm By Your Side". This is a joyful and affectionate song. It is so harmonious with the sunshine and the sound of water in this valley. I secretly watched from the reed. Go, you put your elbows on the ground, a pair of big black eyes full of pain, tenderness and confusion.
I am used to thinking back in silence, like this clear stream, with the sudden shadows of fish clearly visible. You always like to be silent. I can't understand your sadness and sadness hidden in the dark night.
My eyes are burned by the beauty of Valentine’s Day roses. I always curl up in the deserted night, hugging my body and the memory of you in my mind, silently, silently, cry.
You left and I never heard from you again. Are you okay? Now no one sings that song for me anymore, even if my eyes are full of tears, the bustling street, the unfamiliar faces, the indifferent neon lights, where can I find a creek, a piece of grass, a piece of beach, and cry loudly in the sincerity and longing? ?
How strange the dusk is at this moment!
Picturesque Zenlong Valley
Nestled against Qinglong Mountain,
accompanied by Hibiscus water,
backed by Xianhai Lake,
Looking up at the scenery of Longshan Mountain.
A bright moon, a curtain of dreams;
A trace of distant mountains, a mountain stream;
A stream, a house, that is like a poem. The home of Zen painting - Longxi Valley.
The bright moon quietly shines into the mountain forest and into the quiet courtyard. Lay out a piece of rice paper and paint with brush strokes. Paint the landscape and render the clouds and smoke. It has a deeper Zen meaning. The clear spring flows up the stone and the bright moon among the pines. According to.
Is there such a person who, deep in the twists and turns of clouds and waters, retreats to a thatched cottage, brews a pot of tea, wants to wait.
When we meet, don’t ask whether it is a calamity or fate, everything is fate, waiting for you to hide it in your heart, and there will be no trace from now on.
Cut a stream of smoked willows, cut several banks of hibiscus, and send them to you, waiting for your arrival just like the clouds on the mountain.
Meditate in the depths of lonely time and find a path of mind that leads to the Pure Land. The sound of Zen flows slowly like a clear spring, clearing your heart and being as quiet as a lotus.
Everything will flow slowly, everything will settle, everything will be clear and clear.
I like the peach blossom of love in the smoky blue past, enchanting and bright.
Sit quietly and watch, listen to an old song, sip a pot of clear tea, feel leisurely and peaceful, no longer sad, no longer lonely.
No mountain, no dew, no fear, no disturbance, being at ease and following the circumstances is perfection.
Live alone, be a villager, plant bamboos and chrysanthemums, live in a humble world, invite close friends, drink tea and talk about Taoism, forget the world, forget your plans, and forget yourself. Being in tune with nature, it’s nice to watch your age grow slowly as time goes by.
Flowing water does not understand the tenderness of flowers, the breeze does not understand the lingering of flowing clouds, and the mountains and rocks do not understand the happiness of clear springs. How can you understand me? You don’t understand me, and I don’t blame you. Being alone is quite good. Walking to the end of the cloud mountain, sitting and watching the clouds rise, isn’t it also a state of life? Just like this picturesque and Zen-like scenery of Longxi Valley.