It stopped raining outside the window today.
Put on clothes, push the door, the morning breeze is cool,
Look up,
Deep in the backyard path,
Still pink and green,
All of a sudden,
A gust of wind, turn around.
It's nephrite, full of fragrance.
I know how many half-life love stories fall into dreams, and suddenly become quicksand at the fingertips, and the prosperity is gone. Those beautiful promises are always scattered in the dust of the years. Half-life love stories are always sad and lost. A person's heart is sad, a person's dream, I see your gentle eyes in the dream, but it is suddenly close and distant, looming, unclear, intangible, and can't hide all the sadness and loss.
-Inscription Last night, a broken dream broke the original calm and my heart hurt again. Although I know in my heart that that person has long gone and that person will not come back, I still deceive myself to appease my restless heart. Water is ruthless, time passes like running water, and there is no trace of touching water. You and I are drifting away, but I still can't turn the page of heartache, and I am still infatuated.
This dream awakened all my memories about you. After waking up, I couldn't calm down for a long time. I can't hide my thoughts of you at the moment. I can't help crying silently. It's really hard in my heart. I am in great pain at this moment. I once appeared in front of your eyes beautifully. I, a spoony woman, still can't escape. I am willing to endure a dream at the ends of the earth.
Your appearance is so short, but so profound, which has become the most persistent waiting and expectation in my life. Once you know my heart and my feelings so well, I think you are a gift from God, a confidant and a miracle in my life. Among 3000 passers-by, I was lucky enough to meet you and fall in love with you. I hope you are the other half of my life. If I can, I would like to come with countless prosperous moments.
No matter how I forget and escape, as long as I have dreams, everything will become extravagant hopes. I can't forget every moment of falling in love with you, and every picture, including those warm hugs, has become my achilles heel. As long as I think about it, my heart will be broken in an instant, a little tangled, and I can't shake my yearning for separation. I can only hide in the corner and criticize those sorrows alone.
At this point, I have to pin my love for acacia on words, a piece of pale paper, a piece of misty paper, a piece of lost paper, a desolate story and a bitter ending. I want to know why love is so thin and fragile, and whose eyes love once made clear. Now it blurs whose eyes, closes mine, sighs gently, and gives all my tenderness and feelings, but still loses the love of you and me all my life.
If life is not separated, that would be great. The moment when eyes meet, there is always silence, but these are just good wishes. After all, there are too many injuries in the realistic love and flashy vicissitudes, and no matter how deep the feelings are, they can't escape the sadness. Fingertips are fleeting, there is too much pain, flowers fall in my dreams, but I still can't escape melancholy.
In this life, I let go of my self-esteem and pride just because I can't let go of you. I know I'm lost in your world and I can't get it back. It's not your fault or mine. Our story, even if it is a year of vows of eternal love, can not stand the vicissitudes of life. That is the wordless ending, but I still have no regrets. I'm still glad that I was in your world. In your love, I have always been here.
As long as I close my eyes, it's your shadow. You are the person I care about most. When I open my eyes, I want to see you most, my love, crazy for love, exhausted for love, you in the distance, do you know, my helplessness, my tears and my sadness? That year was like a dream, for whom, how many flowers fell in the dream, how much melancholy, how much sorrow!
Who knows, how many half-life love stories in the dream turn into quicksand at the fingertips in the blink of an eye, and the prosperity ends with your resignation. Those beautiful promises are always scattered in the dust of years, and half-life love stories are always sad. A person's heart is sad, a person's dream, I see your gentle eyes in the dream, but suddenly near and far, looming, unclear, intangible, unable to hide my sadness.
-Inscription Last night, a broken dream broke the original calm and my heart hurt again. Although I know in my heart that that person has long gone and that person will not come back, I still deceive myself to appease my restless heart. Water is ruthless, time passes like running water, and there is no trace of touching water. You and I are drifting away, but I still can't turn the page of heartache, and I am still infatuated.
This dream awakened all my memories about you. After waking up, I couldn't calm down for a long time. I can't hide my thoughts of you at the moment. I can't help crying silently. It's really hard in my heart. I am in great pain at this moment. I once appeared in front of your eyes beautifully. I, a spoony woman, still can't escape. I am willing to endure a dream at the ends of the earth.
Your appearance is so short, but so profound, which has become the most persistent waiting and expectation in my life. Once you know my heart and my feelings so well, I think you are a gift from God, a confidant and a miracle in my life. Among 3000 passers-by, I was lucky enough to meet you and fall in love with you. I hope you are the other half of my life. If I can, I would like to come with countless prosperous moments.
No matter how I forget and escape, as long as I have dreams, everything will become extravagant hopes. I can't forget every moment of falling in love with you, and every picture, including those warm hugs, has become my achilles heel. As long as I think about it, my heart will be broken in an instant, a little tangled, and I can't shake my yearning for separation. I can only hide in the corner and criticize those sorrows alone.
...
How to write "But now I remember that night, that storm, and I wonder how many flowers were broken" on the topic "How many flowers fell in my dream"?
"-Inscriptions are always written in dreams and always indulged in tenderness.
Once upon a time, every spring, I would stand alone under the eaves and watch the thin rain line patting the petals gently.
The poor flower couldn't help falling down under the heavy burden.
With the wind rolling and floating, I dance like a spring flower. I have never shown much love for flowers.
Although she is beautiful, I have a crazy love for fallen petal, and I like her softness and faint sadness.
She touched my heart, or I was completely addicted to her unique fragrance.
Once, every March, I froze my soul in a distant memory, stood by the window, looked up at the sky, and my confused thoughts were wet with rain, writing down my inner loss in the dark sky.
You spent the cold winter, and greeted the spring with a smile.
Did you come in a hurry just to leave in a hurry? I stand at the tunnel mouth of time and look at you, watching your little tears slide through the wind, and the dust quietly drifts away in front of those helpless words.
You reach out and grab your cold heart and beat alone. Yes, you will be the goddess of spring.
Thanks to the flowers in previous lives, it hurts the lingering in this life.
It's spring and March.
I will still watch the flowers fall under the eaves, but I have lost my ecstasy.
She seems to be unable to touch my heart any more.
I will still look up at the sky at the window.
I watched the rain fall, but I couldn't hear the voice she once gave me.
But I am a stranger to her. I admire them, but I am not addicted to them. I just pass by my heart and never forget them.
Falling flowers, swaying in the night wind.
It is said that flowers bloom only for those who have spent time, but who is it for? Whose eyebrows are burning tonight? The wind hurt the rain and scattered it on the ground.
At my window, while patting me in my sleep, I made a spring poem, which touched many people, but broke many people's hearts.
It's broken and difficult to decide.
The melancholy rain, whose thoughts are dragging lightly? The whispering of fallen flowers also dyed the legend of who.
Outside the window, the rain has stopped.
Flowers are scattered all over the floor, but the dream is still awake.
I have a younger brother, that guy, handsome as a thief! But I think he is a "golden jade, which is defeated". In my eyes, he is a real "wolf in human skin".
Once, my brother came to my house to play and forced me to play hide-and-seek with him, but where did I have time? He shouted at him irritably, "I don't have time, play by myself!" " "But he changed his face and threatened me:" If you don't play with me, hum, I'll call my period and say you bully me, and then ... "As soon as I hear my mother, I have to be good with him.
We started guessing. I won several games in a row, but he just refused to admit it. Finally, he couldn't stand it, and began to threaten me again: "No more, no more, I will win anyway, just go in and find it yourself, otherwise …" I found one, so he got more.
I followed in his footsteps into the room.
Ah, by the cupboard: his laughter gave away his secret.
Just as I was approaching, the cabinet suddenly shook, and with a bang, my mother's precious vase fell.
I immediately reprimanded him and said, "Zhao Tianpei! Look at you, this is my mother's favorite vase! " He laughed and cried, "Menstruation! Look, my brother has broken the vase! I still want to blame me! " My mother came at once, and I became a "scapegoat".
Look, does he look like a wolf? Always bad
Full score composition: How many flowers fall in my dream [08 Fuyang senior high school entrance examination excellent composition "How many flowers fall in my dream"] Flowers bloom and fall, leaves fall to the roots, I shake hands with you one by one and appreciate the fragrance. Excellent composition of Fuyang senior high school entrance examination "How many flowers fall into my dream"-Inscription (1) "Picking chrysanthemums under the hedge, leisurely seeing Nanshan." He chose the countryside, but let himself live in his poems forever. "Everything is not for people, and tears flow first." It is her beauty. Tears flow down with sadness, leaving traces on the soul and the years. She has tasted her "People are thinner than Yellow Flowers" and the lost years, but she has engraved their memories in her mind. When I opened a calendar, I smelled the ink of the literati. Feel the feeling that your heart is falling heavily. Sigh with him and feel the changes in your hometown. The snow in the north, as he said, has a kind of spirit of rotating and rising, which is shocking. Watching the paper boat drift away with her, with deep thoughts and thoughts, tears blurred my eyes. The paper boat has given her love and floated into my mother's dream. What a deep emotion! I also want to go to Yunnan Song Festival with him. Simple ethnic customs make me happy. After turning over a page of calendar, I follow the footsteps of a writer and stop from time to time ... (3) I like reading his border town, his products in the Three Kingdoms, her understanding of The Analects of Confucius, and his collection of poems, which were excellent compositions of Fuyang middle school students in 2008. That is the reverence of their ancients, and that is his understanding of life and years. I am willing to work with them every day, and I am willing to listen to them, so that my heart will stir and my soul will shine. When I opened a page of the calendar, I was secretly moved by the words of the people of the times ... how many years have passed and how many dreams I have had. Step by step, it's like turning a page in a calendar. Taste life, experience life and learn to feel. However, I don't know how many flowers fall in my dream. The commentary describes the emotional world and cultural nourishment of several poets, writers and scholars in ancient and modern times as poetic, fluent and vivid, or as a natural expression after quoting beautiful poems; Or describe the details with a perceptual imagination and get in touch with the master at zero distance; Or briefly, a few compound sentence are very imposing. As the general outline of the full text, the inscription has ingenious care in three parts and echoes at the end of the article. The title makes the finishing point. However, the concepts of "literati" and "writer" overlap and should not be listed as clue sentences in prose. The term "people of the times" is also open to question. The quickest and surest way to overcome fear and build self-confidence is to do what you are afraid of until you gain successful experience.
How many flowers are there in the dream? 500 words 15 I wait at dusk-how many flowers I read in my dream. You see, there is a piece of land sinking and sleeping in Jose, and the end of the sunset is not here. I moved a small stool in the sunset and sat by the window. The window was not cleaned, and I couldn't find the eyes of the sky. I think, maybe so, staring at the old bark silently, trying to break into the scabbed wound and look for the lost rings. A cross that may no longer exist, standing under the same sky, quietly enjoying the last sunshine. Where the sunset belongs, there must be a quiet Yuan Ye. The moon lives in seclusion during the day. I want to build a small room there. After dawn, I knocked on the door from door to door. Invite a star to be my guest. I will have a wide table with poems by Haizi or Gu Cheng on it. It doesn't matter if it's a mess I will lean on the table with the purple cover "How many flowers fall in my dream". I have never used bookmarks. I moved a stool from home and sat by the window to miss Jose in San Mao's memory. The window is empty, without a layer of glass. It's just a far field outside the window, and you can't see the sea. Spring is not my wish. I just need to read a classical literature about the falling leaves in medieval Europe or ancient China in bleak or casual autumn. If spring doesn't come, I will watch the flowers fall in my dream. It's too cold by the west lake. Even if it rains all the time, I will feel warm. I thought quietly, quietly, and I thought of Sanmao. She is wearing a purple dress. Just like the book in my hand, I miss San Mao who loves Jose in the anthology, and I miss Jose who loves San Mao in the anthology. I don't even know what love is-perhaps, as Lu Qian wrote in his poem, love is just a quiet and peaceful sleep. There is a kind of prosperity that fell to the ground in my sleep. Can you count how much it has fallen? I sang softly in a dreamy voice: "I remember when I was a child, I loved talking and you loved laughing." Once I sat side by side under a peach tree, and the wind roared in the forest. We don't know how we got sleepy and how many flowers we knew in our dreams. " I sat quietly in the shadow of the sunset, but I didn't think a word. Sanmao, my book is very unique.
Composition: How many flowers have fallen in a dream? Write down how many flowers fall in a dream with the topic "How many flowers fall in a dream". I always sit alone in my dream and enjoy the flowers.
Until you, push open the door of my dream.
-Ming, who are you? Countless times, people are entangled in dreams, countless times, lingering in their minds.
As long as I am close to you, there will be a warm current in my heart, which makes people feel as clear and beautiful as a clear spring.
Let me yearn for it.
Before, my dream was silent, but since you walked into my dream, there has been a poetic picture of life.
You melted and warmed my cold heart; Make my depressed heart comfortable and happy; Let my wandering heart be firm and brave.
You, who are you? How I want to lift your veil? But every time I get close to you, a pair of big hands push me into the abyss ... "Bang, bang, bang.
"The ringing knock on the door interrupted my association, and my mother came in with a glass of milk.
I finally found a seat on the messy desk, looked into my tired eyes and said, "Don't be too tired, have a rest …" Then I quietly walked out of the house.
Oh, how much my mother looks like you in my dream! "Little boy, although your test paper is not ideal, as long as you understand it more thoroughly, you will certainly do better!" The teacher told me earnestly and patted me on the shoulder kindly, telling me not to lose heart and to work hard next time.
Suddenly feel that life is full of hope! Oh, how much the teacher's voice looks like you in my dream! "How to do this problem? Small c? " "Oh, it should be ..." The students patiently explained the problem to me and had a heated discussion with me.
Oh, my classmate's face looks like you in my dream! I saw you again in my dream that night. You and I are sitting in the same chair, watching the flowers bloom and fall.
Your voice is so gentle, your figure is so familiar and your smile is so pure.
Very much like my relatives, teachers and friends ... you have given me endless expectations, care and help, and you have made my life better.
I finally found you, my dream girl.
...
I know how many flowers bloom and fall in my dream, and the leaves return to their roots. I will shake hands with you one by one and appreciate the fragrance.
-Inscription (1) "Under the hedge of picking chrysanthemums, you can see Nanshan leisurely.
"Is his best portrayal.
It was a quiet and leisurely mood.
Who said that life is official career? He chose the countryside, but let himself live in his poems forever.
"Things change, not everything, tears flow first.
"It is her beauty.
Tears drop by drop, with sadness, leaving traces on the soul, but also on the years.
Tasting her "People are Thinner than Yellow Flowers", and tasting the lost years, I have already engraved my memory in my heart.
Open a page of the calendar, smell the ink of the literati, and get drunk for a long time ... (2) Fly a kite with him and feel the feeling of my heart falling heavily.
Sigh with him and feel the changes in your hometown.
As he said, the snow in the north has a kind of spirit of rotating and rising, which is shocking.
Watching the paper boat drift away with her, with deep thoughts and thoughts, tears blurred her eyes, and the love that the paper boat gave her had already drifted into her mother's dream.
What a profound emotion this is! I also want to go to Yunnan Song Festival with him. Simple ethnic customs make me happy.
After turning over a page of calendar, I follow the writer's footsteps and stop from time to time ... (3) I like reading his border town, his taste in the Three Kingdoms, her understanding of The Analects of Confucius and his poems.
That is the breath closest to modern life, that is the reverence of their ancients, and that is his perception of life and years.
I am willing to work with them every day, and I am willing to follow their words to make my soul stir and shine.
Turning a page of the calendar, I read the words of the people of the times, and I was secretly moved ... how many years have passed and how many dreams I have had.
Step by step, it's like turning pages of a calendar.
Taste life, experience life and learn to feel, but I don't know how many flowers fell in my dream.
...
After reading San Mao's prose collection "How many flowers fall in a dream", I was infected by that kind of deep sadness and long-term missing.
The first article in the anthology is about Jose's death. On the hillside, in the carved rusty iron gate, he was surrounded by Jose who was sleeping forever.
Since Jose's death, Sanmao's articles have been depressed, and there is no smile between the lines, replaced by endless sadness.
Most of the anthology also recalls her life when she and her husband Jose moved to Canary Island.
When I first read it, it was hard for me to understand why she could say to her parents, "If one day I choose to end my life by myself, please don't be sad."
"In this case.
How cruel it is.
I don't understand why she stayed in Spain alone after her husband died.
I would rather die happily in illusory beauty than live painfully in sober despair.
I think this is San Mao's choice.
Jose is her day.
We can't imagine the scene when she and Jose first went to live in La Palma. That kind of life is so happy that she feels flustered, just like anyone who wants to leave first. When she can't find Jose after work, she will run around the street crazily until Jose appears in front of her.
Can you say this is a hunch? The premonition came true in front of her, and she suddenly realized that it was Jose who had to leave first.
She said that it is happier to go first, and it is not the strong who stay. Let me drink the bitter water of farewell! It's always good for the living to cry.
Please indicate the source? Write a poem with falling flowers in my dream.