Good feelings are like moonlight, the moon waxes and wanes, the moon waxes and wanes, the moon appears and the moon disappears, he is always in your heart. When the coolness, the thickness, the richness are tempered into a kind of plainness in the edges and corners of the years, looking back, what remains in the eyes is just that touch of warm blue.
When I get up in the morning, a thick layer of snow falls in the yard. When I look up, I see a snow-white and silent world. Did that snow come from last night's dream? At this moment, I seem to be on the side of the water in the Book of Songs, carving out the faint fragrance of flowers in my heart, and continuing to write the unfinished chapter along the footsteps you have left. "There are trees in the mountains, and the trees have branches, and my heart is happy for you, but you don't know it." I used a poem full of lovesickness tears to write down the unchanging feelings in the snowy wilderness, and painted the most heartless rhyme in the world. . In the world of mortals, let the seeds of Bodhi fall into the snow. If you have a clear heart, please use your love to convey my original heart of Zen like snow.