I don't know whether the fleeting scenery outside the window is carrying residual cold or early spring. ...
Running water is a hurried time, and we are still passing by. ...
Fingertips tremble on the outline of the years, scattered youth collide with each other's hearts in the cracks, the breeze leisurely caresses the cracks in the soul, and the dried blood remains impressively in yesterday's lingering. ...
Walking at my own pace, I am looking for my depression in the boundless Yuan Ye, and the beautiful Bauhinia has opened up a brilliant and hesitant place for myself.
The moment of collapse shook off the confusion of the years in an instant. What do I have at the moment?
Embracing the black night wind, everything has been lost in this meaningless nirvana, and time is empty and instantly broken. ...
If the wind was still cold yesterday, can you hear the cracks in your heart now?
Trivial December, I thought that drinking water would not get drunk, and it could not compare with the taste of acacia. I dare not hold your hand, lest this feeling slip away. Everything. Why hide it? The heavier it is, the deeper it is hidden, and no one cares about its truth. Steal time in a hurry, miss it in a hurry, no one sees a heart. The traveler, the heaviest one in the package, will never be willing to throw it away. What is the peak of the three mountains and five mountains? Liuhe who is the hero? If you are too proud, you will gather hundreds of millions of dragons, aiming to collect the sun and the moon and destroy the devils, and come to worship for nine days. The news will reach the 18th floor of the underworld. The evening breeze, like summer, has intoxicated me for several years. The unspeakable brush in my hand fell word by word. Leaving children behind is really young and painting is beautiful. Falling in the silent rainy night, the cup of bitter tea I drank fell in the fairy tale of memories, and some years passed like this. It's night, it's night, the insects have long gone to sleep, and the Sri Lankan people haven't slept yet. Sporadic music sounded, and my dreams were full of thoughts. Thinking of fallen leaves and the full moon of the fifteenth. I hope people will live for a long time, and I think of beautiful miles. Reading that innocent smile, reading that long-lost face, reading, reading, but I have fallen asleep. Let go, forget this persistence, forget that yearning, and leave that time. In autumn, He Qifang, the world of mortals, shakes off the dew covered by the morning light, and the sound of logging shakes out the valley. Put down the sickle that has been full of fragrant rice, and hold up the fat fruits and vegetables between the bamboo fences with baskets. Live in a farmhouse in autumn. Cast a round net over the cold fog on the river and put away the shadow of cypress leaves like herring. The reeds are shaded with frost and gently shake the parked oars. The autumn sports meeting is held on fishing boats. The grass is getting wider and wider in the cricket's cry. The stream dried up and the stones became clearer. Where is the flute on the cow's back, the flute hole full of summer night fragrance and heat? Qiu Meng in the eyes of shepherdess.