After the end of prosperity, I wrote a fleeting essay, 1. When the years are dim, the hidden pain of those years still shuttles in the depths of memory. Lost time, lost smile, a memory, I never want to love its beauty again. Wandering on the road is too bitter, too bitter. Wind and rain go together, and the world full of thorns is still endless. Life is like a game, with a black and white curtain, light like a shadow, and dust can't be fixed.
-inscription
The darkness of the night enveloped the lonely air. When dreams no longer repeat the past scenes, when thoughts stopped in the white winter, everything turned into memories. The stars, Leng Yue and Castle Peak are still there. The scenes of the past are lingering, the world of mortals is quiet and without a trace, and people have disappeared at the end of the song. The residual flowers are gone, the mirror flower edge is broken, and the missed scenery is hard to find after all. It's a pity that the sun is gone and the end of the world can't be seen. I am simple, elegant and proud, wandering in the flashy world. I can't circle beauty and light, and they are far away from each other. I sealed the eternal beauty, how many times I left the world of mortals, and I was attacked by the cold and my weak body. From then on, there was only one person.
The pages of the calendar are torn off, the lush life is gone, the years are out of reach with too many smiles, and the heart is getting old. Yesterday's tenderness is still thinking about beauty, but today it has faded that persistence. Are you sinking too deep or are you tired of the world of mortals? Only in this way can the heart escape from everything. I don't want to ask the world what I have, what I have lost, how many years have hurt me, whether intentionally or unintentionally, and give myself strength in the sad laughter. No longer believe in commitment, it is a beautiful thing, giving people countless yearning, time staggered, gathering and parting, no regret oath, no commitment to grow old together.
Cold wind, blowing through the street corner, with light steps, blowing inner ripples. Years accumulated in the past, exposed to the prosperity of the world by the wind, I never want to forget, let alone remember. But the wind blew all these memories away from my heart, without any emotion. I miss them like the wind. The residual scenery is full of flowers, the dance is full of prosperity, and the rendering is somewhat sad, and the phoenix tree is sparse, but it is helpless and bleak. Cold dew and dawn window, residual leaves all over the ground, long night boundless melancholy, lonely shadow also heartbroken. Looking back on the past, I feel a lot of sadness. Empty memories have turned into sadness, tears are thousands of lines, dark and sad, and I can't stand it. It broke into vicissitudes.
An ink mark, love doesn't stop there. Life is like a play, I am like a player, the world of mortals is like a dream, and the past is like smoke, which should be forgotten. I will seal my heart and hide it in a sad poem, but you pretend not to see it. The sadness of cooking smoke is full of heartbreaking stories, broken stories, lovesickness stories, endless stories, the loneliness of the old ferry and the cold light.
The wind is raining, the rain is continuous, and the chill is biting. I was only half a ring late, and you were absent from my life. Starless sky, moonlit night is incomplete, I really want to forgive myself, forgive myself for saying that I have forgotten, but I am still writing about you. My infatuation is hard to change day by day, and my thoughts fall every night. The title of each time is unclear, but it is so cruel, because I am the only one left.
Yueming, past lives, I have all been read, that kind of warmth, that kind of pain, that kind of tears hidden in laughter, that kind of unnecessary temperature, accompanied me to walk slowly, and the story of my life was deeply engraved, but it was as cold as ice. The yellow sky is long, and the world of mortals loves songs and eventually disappears. I will miss it all my life and remember it all my life. The last persistence lost time, lost waiting, lost touching the door of the heart, lost to the passage of time, lost to the invasion of sadness.
Inner peace, confusion at the crossroads of life, I don't know where to go. Fate has passed, and it is difficult to retain it. Autumn comes and winter comes, and the song is over. I just hope I can be safe after I leave. Don't care too much about life. The fate is shallow, the clouds are light and the wind is light. The world of mortals is as short as fireworks. And heaven remains our neighbourhood, every word can't bear to be stained with that sadness. People have changed, lifted the curtain of years, drifted away from the end of the world inadvertently, and felt a lot of hesitation and sadness. In the end, I was disappointed with this kind of life. Beyond my dreams, I was full of sadness and loneliness.
Things are impermanent, the tide rises and falls, life meets wet for the first time, and short-lived life meets, and no one can get eternal tenderness. Whether it is good or bad, whether it is lost or stupid, there is no lack of distress and struggle. The faint fragrance of the past drifts, inclines the time and space, and the years are aging, which makes the world desolate. Without seeing the lead of the earth, the endless water in Qian Shan, the endless cold smoke and water, loneliness and hesitation, leaving the dust settled, facing the confusion, being speechless and suffering from the memory, the old shadow of the past can only say "goodbye" to the present self.
Long in my heart, white memories block every inch of time, and my feelings are hot and cold, which hurts my inferiority, but I can't be warm when I drink it. First frost has no trace, and the years are like dreams. After the glory, only the prosperity is gone, but it is unforgettable. Lost perfection, lost self, geese fly alone, people go to the empty building, lonely shadows and pillows, and come here for years.
I am in the cold winter
Waiting for a snow to come.
Fill my heart
Blooming in the place where I want to go most.
Who, those hands out of the world?
Knead into a ball.
Use heat to influence
Turn into a clear spring and flow to the distance.
A stream through the jungle
With weak water, sink into the ocean.
Bloom blue dreams
Make magical waves
Flapping at the sailing cruise ship.
Look at life without regret.
Where the sun sets.
Watch a fishing fire.
Romance of bright and tired bird habitat
Aurora
Turn into air.
At sea, even for a moment.
It becomes a poet's eternity. ...
After the end of prosperity, we often write a fleeting essay. We often speak insincerely, saying that we will never know, but it may not be forever. Say the oath, only to understand that it may be a slip of the tongue; Say goodbye, only to find that I may never see you again. -inscription
Memories are like sand, finely divided, like water passing by, looking back; Take a picture. Time flies, picking up a period of brilliant years between fingers, but the fragmented past is bleak. Looking back suddenly, in the years we spent, we looked up at the stars; Looking back at the soft words in your ears, like epiphyllum. With a sigh, everyone is safe.
Memories, deep or shallow, thick or light, have been in the depths of time and touched time; Those obsessions, as light as light, have been buried in light years for some time.
In early winter, the night outside the window is inexplicably less lively and wonderful. The city where people come and go is filled with a cold breath, and the dreams of lovers are much colder, which gives birth to loneliness. What is inextricably linked is the most helpless waste of years, and the thoughts of roses and lovers in the fleeting years. Do you remember how playful, naughty and a little crazy you were when I saw you at the beginning of that year? It's hard to control your way. Time flies, the ends of the earth, there is no water in Qian Shan, a little melancholy, clouds gather and disperse, who is smiling.
Zeng nian, smelling the fragrance together, cherishing each other, quietly reading the years, turning around in the snow, the wind flying away again, repeatedly, gradually turning yellow; The north wind rises, the fingers are snowing, and the cold nights are getting longer and longer; The thin shadows of the stars, one by one withered, remained silent.
Shao Hua didn't end, her voice remained, and she lingered for too long; When I hesitated, I was worried that the Chu River, which was held in the center of time, was swaying at the last post. The last bus went by one after another. After a long time, my eyes were numb, the tide rose and fell, and the flowers withered. The result is empty. We always pass by, and we always sing a play.
Over the years, under the sky of a city, how many people have gone through my years. I know, I can't stay. There will always be an ending to the story. The only change may be that we have changed from the protagonist in the story to a supporting role, and then from a supporting role to a passerby.
I'm still me, and you're still you. Maybe no amount of words and perfunctory words are better than one sentence. I haven't forgotten! The flowers that year were so bright, and the night that night was so beautiful; I haven't forgotten it in my heart for a long time, and it is warm to this day. An unforgettable tree, lush, stands tall and straight at the intersection of the four seasons, looking forward to the date of return.
This life is destined to be bound by some people and things. At first, I always thought I could forget. Finally, I suddenly felt a knot in my heart. I can't untie it. I can't break it. There is always one thing you can't forget-the postscript.