The wind is still gentle, the rain has not stopped, but the heart is changing with the scenery, and the rain drops gently in the air, bringing freshness and warmth to the world. Peach blossoms are blooming, apricot blossoms are falling secretly, and magnolia butterflies are standing in the street, and many passers-by sigh for it. Spring in the north seems to be less gentle and more peaceful!
Wandering in the colors of late spring, I faintly smell the taste of spring and feel the throb in the depths of the years. I stand in the spring breeze, feel the tenderness of the spring breeze, listen to the sweet voice of flowers, and slowly give birth to soft warmth in my heart. Dip in a touch of green, describe spring, collect those lost scenery one by one, and gently recall those lost memories. Standing at the intersection of spring, looking at clouds and water, I feel carefree in the early morning and spring dusk, and put the past on hold for the time being. Gently move your steps, face the gentle wind, accept the warmth of sunshine, kiss the sweetness of flowers and the fragrance of earth, and then knead these beauties into elegant tang style Song poems with a slender pen. How many old dreams sway with the wind, how many deep feelings fall with the flowers, entangled in a spring breeze, a light rain, a distant cloud, a touch of clear sky and a touch of spring scenery to calm the story in the wind and the sadness after the rain!
Silent time flies, reading quietly, stepping on a misty and shallow dream, leaning against the window with shining stars and swaying shadows, watching the night gently and tactfully, listening to the wind and killing time quietly. Let go of your thoughts, touch the heartstrings, slowly stretch the dusty story, uncover the words that have been stained by the years, and all the bits and pieces that are covered with traces of annual rings will turn into the ups and downs of the scenery in your heart and sway quietly in the depths of time. A curtain of affection, half-window lovesickness, a waning moon and a pot of old wine make your thoughts wander in the moonlight tea fragrance, reading gently and hiding deeply. ...
Lean on your body, twist a fragrant heart, sit leisurely, blend with the seasons, nourish your temperament and calm your heart. It's raining outside the window, the fragrance is diffuse, the night is getting deeper and deeper, and the cold brings the vitality of spring. I miss the misty rain in the north and south of the Yangtze River in spring. Spread the dreamy stone bridge, open the shackles of memories, the peach blossoms, apricot blossoms and pear blossoms in the south of the Yangtze River, the unique kapok in the misty rain, and the boats wandering between the water towns in the dream, as if they were just around the corner. ...
I have too many memories of the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River and the dreamy water town. I want to pick up the lost beauty beside the ancient sunset road; I want to relive those long-lost sweetness in the cuckoo garden; I want to enjoy romantic time on the golden beach. ...
The misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River and the dreamy countryside are the most beautiful pictures in my heart. The breeze is melodious, the drizzle is like silk, the flowers fly around the shoulders, the acacia is stained with ink, a lake is misty and rainy, and a leaf floats alone, holding a pole of tang style Song Yu, swinging a lake and twenty-four bridges on a moonlit night. Walking on misty rain and flying flowers, I spread my thoughts on the dreamy stone bridge, waiting for a warm encounter. Open the clouds of doubt, welcome the spring, open the petals, make them warm as water, graffiti mountains and streams on the green tone, and walk into the gentle and attractive pavilion in spring. At the foot of the Castle Peak, the willows are dancing lightly and fragrant, the river is rippling, the grass is crisp and warm, the frogs are old and new, the flowers are fragrant and the fragrance is floating, and the bauhinia is smiling in the spring breeze.
Close to the water tower, the bright moon is beautiful, howling and crying secrete people's hearts, and I miss my delicate face alone. The wind is light and the clouds are light, the fog is locked in the distant mountains, the air is dense, the water town in the south of the Yangtze River, and the fishing boat sings. Who will describe this scene carefully at the end of the dream? The fireworks are thin and twittering, and the screen is like smoke. People travel in a world of pictorial, and they don't know if they are guests when they wake up. A stream of water and harmony in the south of the Yangtze River, with its delicate fragrance and colorful extraordinary beauty, is graceful and leisurely in the fresh lingering fragrance, weaving intoxicating leisure. In this colorful Yuan Ye, that piece of white bauhinia, pure and beautiful, is in full bloom. This mountain, this water, this wind, this cloud, this flower and this grass are all warm and elegant.
Walking in the long spring, quietly enjoying the tenderness of spring and smelling the fragrance, magically calmed the anxiety in my heart. The breeze blew a stream of spring water, and the green vines on the pond overflowed the thin waterline. Spring breeze has no intention, but it awakens the silence of winter and scatters the new green all over the ground. The drizzle is silent, but it embellishes the mountains and rivers of Yuan Ye and washes the charming scenery. After a spring rain, the sunshine is soft, the herbs are leisurely, and the warmth climbs up the brow through the cold window that has been sealed for a season and spreads to the bottom of my heart.
Bagpipes in March, rain strings in April, dancing with warm melody, dancing with Hua Hudie, quietly overflowing with soft spring songs. Long vanilla, shallow preface and overlapping flower language sing the theme of time passing. From the spring in the north to the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, I changed a few prosperity in my dream and experienced several cycles!
Spring flowers and autumn moon, dust like a dream, listening to the wind and rain, watching the falling flowers, at the intersection of seasons, you come and go, and the fate is gone. Wandering in the depths of the world, I started writing, reciting poems and reading glass without regret. How much I want to put down those deep and shallow stories with my clever mind; How I want to hide it in quiet words, like running water or clear or blurred scenery. The glass is thin and clear, the valley listens to the sound of the stream, and the clouds are green. At that time, the pen and ink were bright and bleak, as if in a trance, and the scenery had changed.
Time flies away the past, and has already buried the once happy faces, those youthful dreams, those romantic dust, those words covered with tears, how many sleepless moons have been disturbed and how many vicissitudes have been experienced. If running water is a dream, it will drift away. Why linger on passers-by and become a worry? Back in time, I used to decorate my luggage with loneliness, and with the wind and rain and sadness, I folded the bleak past into residual frost. Spring, stranded all expectations, but I still pity this happy encounter. A drop of spring rain stirred up the waves in the pool and slid round and round into the distance. In the middle of the water, at the end of the rain, the wandering duckweed is homeless. Despite the relentless destruction of wind and rain and vicissitudes of life, there is nothing to do. Meeting water is just a dream.
Strolling in a shallow time, the wind and frost of any season gradually melted the old dreams. Time flies like water, the season is like the wind, no matter whether flowers bloom or fall, no matter the wind and rain, I still shuttle through the bleak time. The cold tail is still swaying, attacking every distant warmth, the sun is so lazy, how long will the bitterness of missing last, will it be stranded, away from the flute, and the world of mortals will no longer be lonely? I have been waiting at the exit of the season, waiting for the spring to bloom. When I reach the green eyes, I will take my dream to see the misty rain and dreamy flowers in the south of the Yangtze River. Yun Jian, a stream on the bank of Yangliu River in the south of the Yangtze River, has a smoke lock in the red chamber and a moon fan in Xiaoxiang. I like to take a nap in beautiful thoughts. The bleak pen tip is as gentle as possible, and I use words to collect the warmth and coldness in my heart.
Written on March 20 16 16.