Love and yearning lyric sketch Part I: Pay a mirror flower, collect a moon, pay a mirror flower, collect a moon, fly in a secluded dream, fall in the rain when you wake up, bow down and surrender to your dream. -inscription
The rain in the night penetrates the loneliness in the soul and sends the faint acacia to your chest across the embankment. Last night, a drizzle knocked at the silent heart, like a rose in the rain, gorgeous and incomparable, just like your bright smile. Tonight, the rain falls into the sky again, with graceful and light steps, coming to my arms like a warm and blooming smile. I sigh lightly, and the ethereal night falls in my heart in the distance. The palm of your hand is surging with fragments of time, stretching out 10 thousand kinds of tenderness under neon lights. Mottled thoughts, but there is no gap, because deep affection is eternal and will never be tired.
Innocent love, in the silver rain, is becoming more and more pure and detached. Love, so precious, brilliant, love, so warm-hearted, like. A lifetime of infatuation, hovering at the fingertips, the rain is sad, even this windowsill is inlaid with sadness. A thousand unmovable sails are destined for this shore and the other shore in this night.
Looking for you in this rainy season, Qian Shan is full of water, let the tears of missing burst its banks, and let love lock the heavy door of lovesickness. ? Ultima Thule is still far from the end, only the mind is infinitely long, and there is no time. ? Thin and cool autumn, watch the long geese shadow south. Write down your thoughts and wander in the sea of clouds just to find your footprints. Waiting for you, missing you and looking for you are the most beautiful legends left in life. Looking back, the scenery is far away, the maple leaves are dyed red by autumn, and the fire burns out acacia. The mountains are far away, the sky is misty and cold, and the acacia maple leaves are Dan. There is a kind of love that silently guards you through four seasons and time and space.
In the depths of the clouds, touch each other, look for the footprints of flowers, wait for you, find you, miss you. It is the charm outlined in the picture scroll and the foreshadowing of the tenderness at the bottom of love. Long-term dependence, ideological dependence, a long journey, a long journey, a long journey of water, a dream in your memory, the flashy world, like smoke disappeared. There is no need to mention it again. I will keep you, wait for you and miss you in this life. Even if I say goodbye to sadness, I will never fail you.
Silent rainy night, making a cup of green tea, curling light smoke, drunk on the other side, who is disappointed when a few fishing fires are stationed? Thoughts, rowing, and clear words are like a diligent bird, sending thoughts to the distance. Years, stranded butterflies, haunt my heart. The heart of the sea is swaying slightly, and the thin face looks at each other with tears. Missing quietly stays at the fingertips, and the geese on the waterfront wear the pond again. I have been confused all my life, and I have been drunk for three generations in my hometown. Who threw the filariasis of love into my dream? After waking up, I can't keep that warm-hearted past.
Unable to grasp the thread of love, full of hesitation and endless infatuation turned into sadness. Who collected yesterday's tenderness, who sang euphemistic feelings, who salvaged a beautiful image, and who was pursuing the lost time. Folding small stationery, knocking on dependent stories, but lovesickness, scattered in my hometown. The wind is gentle, but I can't blow away my dreams. I drifted with the wind, and I went to Qiu Lai in spring. Can't enjoy the endless scenery, the maple leaves are yellow. Cut the west window, look for old dreams and write new words drunk. Where are your traces?
I still remember that year, you said, you are a kite and I am a thread. Now the thread is broken and the kite is far away. Where have you been? Love lost in my heart, turned into boundless mountains and rivers. How to say the love of three generations? Why can you swim comfortably and enjoy yourself when the kite is broken? With the thread in hand, why does the kite lean against the crossbar? The back is far away, and the heart is resentful. The heart is a harp, love is a string, and the heart is still there, and the heart can't play the lingering under the moon. The heart is in the distance, close to the sky, the kite is the moon on the horizon, the moonlight scatters graupel, the shadow that can't escape, and the obsession that can't be let go.
You say you are a kite, I am a thread, and time goes by. You fly to the cape and I look at the horizon. Tears can't last, time passes, not with the fence, but with a small purple heart.
The night has gone, and on a moonless night, my heart is like a dandelion flying in the air, drifting with the wind and having no direction. Aimless and chaotic thoughts penetrate the night, but I feel more and more lonely. A cup of green tea, accompanied by tea fragrance, layers of coolness dripping into the eyes. Tired street lamps, emitting stubborn light, flow away time, take away gentle stories, cut short long hair, and will grow back to waist height. The beauty that has flowed away in time, now only the memory planted in the bone marrow, still bumps and climbs every day.
Drunk autumn wind, homesick at night, I can't forget my first acquaintance, a tacit understanding, a congenial conversation, and the wind and shadow whirling, which can't take away the watch of my soul. Flowers bloom and fall, chrysanthemums are golden, deep in shadows, between eyebrows and eyes. Memories of the past are archived in my mind. If you can't delete them, Ren Qingshan is also barren and exudes charming fragrance in the tenderness of spring. Faint thoughts, stranded in the corner of the years, leaves withered and withered. Confused eyes, is a clear encounter, cut off the fleeting dream, the original time has never stopped and pity. A kite with a broken line and a broken mind are the ends of the earth and the ends of the earth.
Tonight, in the intermittent rain, on the strings, whose fingertips are broken with acacia, in the depths of the ink sea, who writes the words of acacia as a thin moon in the bottom of my heart, where the red tears gradually disappear, can only edit this affection into a faint chapter of acacia.
Emotion is euphemistic, love is fleeting, flowers bloom and fall, affection in love, bleak night, a tear of missing is crushed. ? My temples are pitiful and green, only for old feelings. ? Cross the ferry of time and sail to the other side of love moonlight. Looking at the horizon and thinking about the night with colored glass, is it full of nostalgia for the moonlight? I miss the beautiful radian of your mouth when we first met. Love is a silent language, without rhetoric. As long as I am there, you are there, and our family ties are there. Maybe time will take away some instability, but in every inch of time, there is still a deep fascination.
Keep a person, a city, and a stormy life. As long as the true feelings have not deteriorated, let the four seasons cycle, a love, and keep this shore and the other shore. Autumn, a curtain of misty rain, drunk with a season of lingering soft language, you see, autumn rain is flying from the horizon, bringing countless smiles. While being exquisite and elegant, my gentle body is beating with the beauty of agile autumn. I am standing in the water town in autumn, waiting for you to come, holding my gentle hand and going to an autumn rain.
When the leaves fall, I am waiting for you, waiting for you to carve our poetic happiness and romance with the warmest love and my most affectionate period. In this life, I won't give up until you leave. I am willing to devote myself to your gentle city like water all my life to protect our eternal feelings. Even if the seas run dry and the rocks crumble, our love is still beautiful. Looking at autumn by the window, affectionate eyes, I will write a beautiful poem for you on the quiet road of autumn rain, such as the agility of rain and the aestheticism of your heart. I just hope to have you in my life. No matter how many storms I have experienced, you are my prosperous poem, quietly in my heart, outlining the glory of life.
Cut for a while, get rid of sadness, and cherish all the true feelings with sunshine. Waiting for you by the water, in the green, in the summer in Qiu Lai, watching your love devoutly. Even if I forget the appearance of spring, summer, autumn and winter, I will never forget my deep obsession with you and cherish you in my little heart. My heart is so big and so small, even if I can hold the beauty of the sea on earth, I can only keep a crazy person who loves you, and I will accompany you all my life and forever. The first time I met you, when you passed in front of my eyes, a flower appeared, intoxicating, unforgettable and endless loneliness. Is that rosemary of love?
Perhaps wordless flowers bloom and fall, which is the most affectionate companion, and putting pen to paper is the most beautiful. Life is like a song, write a romantic story, meeting is fate, cherish you and me, and engrave tenderness like water on fragrant paper. The color of a peach blossom, dyed all over the bright spring, a pool of lotus flowers, lingering in cool summer, a mountain stream, a basin of autumn moon and a snowflake face, warmed the cold winter. Tender thoughts, accompanied by the world of mortals in the morning and evening, depend on Loulan alone, and the 24-string voiceless voice turns who's fleeting time and who's crazy. There is a flower waiting for love on the bluestone board in the lonely deep alley, waiting for you to meet from spring to winter.
When the moon sets and the sky cries, do you ever know that frost is full of love and crosses the mountains and rivers of love? Tender as water, lingering, crescent moon, time flies, who fills in the thoughts? Linglong dice Anhoudou, what do you know about bone acacia? ? In the embrace of green leaves, playing the strings lightly, the heart is sweet, the heart is Ran Ran's, the flowers are missing, the world is bound by dust, the heart is a distant Zen, the sky is blue, and the feelings are flowing. Meeting you is a lifelong obsession. If this meeting is destined to be a fleeting illusion, let it open this feeling to tea and the last touch of my heart.
Love Missing Lyric Essay Part II: Meeting is a beautiful meeting in a season, a blooming season, and a just person meeting at the right time and place. Oh, you are here, too! ? Great! It turns out that I traveled all over Qian Shan just to meet; It turns out that reincarnation has been going on for centuries, and the seasons have changed several times, just to meet. The word "encounter" always highlights obscurity, covers the veil and makes people fascinated. Time is picturesque, paving the way for subtle rhythm and coming to meet. ......
During that time, I was vague, I liked it clearly, I was simple and pure. I smiled and walked through colorful flowers, into a city full of fireworks and fragrant hearts, galloping across a heartbeat boat, holding a flower umbrella, swaying petals and falling into each other's eyebrows, deeply shallow and full of joy. The moonlight is just right, and the stars set off; The tea is just warm, and Xiaojian just dreamed of meeting!
If we meet in spring, that bright and beautiful time, that fresh and pure years, a deep affection and tenderness, indulge in butterfly dance and flowers, both butterfly dance and dance, continue to write the first season of meeting. The harmonious rhythm is always just right. The practice of love has always been on the road of sewing flowers, weaving like a leaf, interlocking fingers and warming a gourd ladle. When it rains in Xiaoxiang, crossing bridges, awning boats and paddling waves are all warm, familiar and meet.
So imagine that beauty has always been accompanied by the arrival of a love that depends on each other and nourishes the soul. Stop at every alternate charming page, dip in the sunshine mood and welcome the arrival of the encounter. Chasing the hometown of dreams, smelling the flowers of love, reading maple red, counting red beans, counting the joy of meeting, rambling about a small word, closing the warm vein, walking through the plank road of time, feeling of walking and thinking about the pages, what a wonderful thing!
Meeting is a beautiful season, and the taste here is the sweetest of all. Turn around, just meet, vaguely, vaguely, a pool of fresh, plant elegant time, meet fate. Before the old days of the horse, just a love flower fell on my shoulder, and the beauty was in the window sash. The romantic moonlight was full of lush fragrance, all of which were flower walls decorated with roses.
Looking back, we will freeze forever and break into butterflies. Fly with me, Lian Lizhi tied the oath to the sansheng stone, and the two-winged bird held the agreement of reincarnation. No matter how it changed, it was only to find it in the vast sea of people at first sight. Clouds and waters are gentle, and weeds also think about feelings. A box of flowers and flowers is a good news, a round of snow and graceful, harmonies and harmonies, mountains and rivers depend on each other. * * * Mu Chunqiu, dependent and cherish!
All endless encounters, endless beauty, encounters, are a shy rose shy, is the romance that lavender stepped on. Flowers in the garden will wait in the depths of time, waiting for the opportunity to meet, one by one, flowers meet aestheticism, and you meet her in love. Fresh and elegant, charming and enchanting, what kind of words will be a beautiful encounter!
I always feel that I don't have enough literary thoughts to express this, bearing the feelings between people. That section of tenderness, tenderness and charm is the purest cloud meeting in the blue sky. I first met my heart, and I met my white, just right. Surprised, intoxicated? Initial heart, fate is coming!
When the days are not too slow, after the autumn wind and early winter, I miss the snow in the distance. On the water side, I approached gently to see you, feeling that I was near, but I didn't go far. ......
Looking through life, I stayed in countless touches, with the voice of loving flowers in my heart, always counting on the keyboard, knocking on beautiful dreams, Xu Wan, hoping to meet this season, and looking back is a beautiful scene.
Lyric Prose on Love's yearning Part III: Waiting, toning a person like a landscape, like a dull cloud, is long and endless, only for the moment of meeting. Colorful waiting, just to adjust the color of the heart, in full bloom between the eyebrows, mountains and rivers pass by, in the hometown of dreams, spring blossoms, butterflies and birds, bees and flowers, to promote the red bloom, green overflows the ankle, waiting for the depths of the heart, you come, I come, fate comes!
Waiting, like waiting for blue and white porcelain, is silence and listening. The voice of the Millennium calls for the initial window, and a taste is always in my heart. The bamboo forest with beautiful taste once had your time. The fragrance was fluttering, the thoughts were centered, and the heart sounds were rippling. One of you, one of me, heaven and earth, and green embraced each other and fell into the sleeve of reading. Waiting for the rippling circle, coming to the hedge building, harmoniously, all dreams are extravagant hopes of mountains and rivers.
Waiting, splashing ink in spring, summer, autumn and winter, writing picturesque scenery, beautiful pictures, changing thousands of times for thinking and thinking, but only one color, interpreting the theme from beginning to end, reading acacia between the eyebrows, which is particularly heavy. Sometimes like the whisper of spring; Sometimes if summer is romantic; Sometimes clear as autumn; Sometimes if winter is deep and heavy. Time to remove makeup, but also for thinking, leaving a trace of white and quiet, so that waiting between the eyes, this situation can be treated, no matter when!
Spring, waiting to sprout quietly, my heart turns green and the scenery has color. There is a slight feeling in Qing heart, here it comes. When the spring breeze turns into rain, the pond that moistens the mind has sprouted and blossomed, and wall after wall is lush. Color-matching dreamland scenery, combined with pleasant wind, blows, flowers fluctuate and faint fragrance overflows each other's days, waiting, waiting for the water green Jiang Nanan, and the flowers on the other side will bloom as scheduled.
Spring-like waiting has not yet caught my eye, and the footsteps of summer, on the smelling paper, quietly drift across the ocean, adding to my thoughts. When it becomes so strong, the fragrance of a city is scattered in the blossoming stamens, the wind feels it, the rain hears the deep thoughts, and the journey is full of misty rain. The colorful, unique and amorous feelings set off by the lush green are all on the waiting canvas, singing and dancing, talking about a gourd ladle of warmth, remembering, the wind rises, the rain falls and the flowers bloom!
Waiting, sometimes in autumn, the song ends, the yellow leaves are scattered all over the floor, the breeze passes, the chill attacks people, and the thin rain twists and turns. Cool thin, waiting, poured into Xiao's dark street, where there were depressed crayons and lingering thin shadows. Lonely platform, lonely, lonely, just a person's watch. The courtyard is deep, the yellow leaves are cold, and the autumn wind and autumn rain give the moon a Leng Xue daydream!
When warm water drowns, the cold wind whispers, waiting for indifference to turn into ice, expecting dust to turn into snow, stopping and stopping, stopping countless Kaka platforms day and night, waiting for a piece of paper to become blank, and so on, just like winter. The tenderness between the fingers has turned into countless storms, and how many wishes have turned into nothingness, cold and lonely, sad eyes, dejected, endless walls, where to go, indifferent thoughts and no direction.
Waiting for impermanence, a deep, a shallow, a burning melody, sings the journey of life, how many flowers bloom and fall, how many prosperous endings, are all splashing ink on this waiting. Whether it is a willow flower or a fallen leaf, it always changes its skirt, sometimes charming, sometimes quiet to white, and a pen that misses it changes and changes the scenery.