The same is true of youth. Interpret life with blooming time. To enjoy an unforgettable honor. It's like a pious man standing in the holy land of Jerusalem, enjoying life and fighting for it. Give ear, and whose youth is humming?
Peerless elegance was broken in the youthful glory of the later dynasty. The resplendent hall is only drunk in the fragrance of charm. After a leisurely time, the flowers in the garden sing the world of mortals. With a bitter smile, it is the fall of Fu Cha, the prince of Wu. Bet on youth, shoulder heavy burdens and embark on an unknown journey. Tears that can't be turned away lasted for a whole spring and autumn. Lonely clouds sigh sadly. The downfall of a dynasty is only drunk in clouds.
Today, thousands of years later, people open their books, quietly walk through all the years, look at the stone that used to be like a flower, and interpret the firm belief that Wu will be destroyed more and more with the blooming years. It turns out that youth has already opened an endless chapter in the dark, which is intriguing. ...
Life is a delicate flower, and youth is a moment of blooming. Only at that moment will this flower be fragrant and beautiful. Just as someone once said, "Bitter youth is still youth, and a tearful smile is still a smile. As long as my heart is full of hope, I can see heaven even if it rains! "
Yes, everyone has a pair of flying wings …
I am calm but enthusiastic, I am lonely but gregarious, I am unwilling to be dull but remain dull, still living, still noisy, still flowing in the market, still my life track.
I no longer have the unyielding sense of superiority and the courage to dream endlessly brought by adolescence.
Dry your tears and come back with a strong and hard-working face, still living that kind of quiet life, laughing off all your dreams and staying away from possible youth injuries. I believe that "the most common things burn the longest", although not from the beginning.
Gide lived a quiet life, not a sad one. I'm still very touched. I used to be particularly persistent because I had such a dream, but now I have added a little sadness and guilt because I don't have such a dream.
There is a kind of love that is doomed to be fruitless but still beautiful. Perhaps, true love is a reckless instant thing-it has the quality of a flower, so it should wither as long as it is open.
There is a kind of love that prepares for separation. Secret flowers are sometimes more lingering than open fruits, and obscure words are full of incomprehensible songs.
The sacrifice of love is definitely a kind of loss and will cause regret, but it is precisely because of sacrifice that love is great and worthy of great feelings.
Have selfish love? Does selfish love count as love? When can selfish people understand love? The sacrifice of love is almost everywhere, and it is an unavoidable problem-only when the feelings rise to the level of selflessness will they be willing and regarded as dedication.
Angels are guests of sad spring. He bleeds every evening.
Roses can never produce amazing flowers, but their pink petals are like broken wings of angels, so light that they can't even accept a dewdrop.
Rose powder can't be transformed in the tough wind, like a plant that can't help but suffocate in the water, so feminine.
Days are copied in the copier, and every day is the same. Only love and death are eternal. I feel like a saint, praying for what I think is the simplest and most common thing, but God gave me a plate of sand, and I will never catch it all, and I will never be empty-handed.
In the face of our love, joy, tears and hurt, will we make the same mistake again?
The world is in samsara, time is getting old, not to mention people. You smile slightly, and your mouth is shining. That feeling is always spreading grass, yellow and green, swaying in my subjective perspective for a whole season. The wind is always transparent and flows through the four seasons.
Many things that I thought were vivid in my mind were broken into pieces in my memory and gradually disappeared. Sometimes, the fragments will turn into butterflies and fly around me. When I want to catch it, it will pass through my fingers and fly to further time and space.
Addictive purple, uneasy purple; Colorful years, rich years.
The image of gardenia will float in from the window and quietly fill her world like soot. Anne's writing can give people more beautiful feelings. Pure for the beauty of words, for that kind of empty strangeness.
Marginal state, ethereal requiem, quiet Irish music. Always remember
A withered rose is in full bloom in the air, fireworks are gorgeous, and a lonely hibiscus floats in the water, slowly closing its eyes. The sun shines on the dying soul, the smile is no longer warm, and the breath is no longer pale. When life is fleeting and fragile, a tear is still as clear as a diamond.
Lonely as a flower, strong as a fire.
As clear as a lamp, as simple as a door.
Break up in defeat
This is the river of time. It flows mysteriously in the land that belongs to you in an unpredictable way. I don't know what it will wash away for you, nor what it will bring you. The dream of youth is like a flower that never fades!
Every year, every season and everywhere, roses are in full bloom, which is actually the most common flower.
It's grass yellow season again. Everywhere, the green mottles disappear, and only the dry light yellow gradually fills people's sight, which is the most flexible retroversion at the end of life.
I like to watch the fallen leaves fall on the hay. The red leaves and yellow stems are very bright and beautiful. Looking at them, I will think of the bleak glory when the sun sets slowly, and I will think of the white-haired old man walking hand in hand on the stone steps, calm and safe, that kind of warmth and touch.
After the first snowstorm in winter, they will disappear on the ground, return to the embrace of Mother Earth and rest in peace. Waiting, after a long wait, the first gentle call of the spring breeze will awaken all their descendants.
I like to see the beauty of grass green Jiang Nanan, and the bleak winter escapes with their little laughter. How tender is the new green stem? In the crevices, on the soil, they bravely stand tall, grow inch by inch in the cold wind and rain, dye the banks and the earth bit by bit, and weave exciting spring clothes under the blue sky and breeze.
How can you stand the lush grass? Gently touch with your hand, as delicate as a baby's skin. A little slip from the palm of your hand, and some tiny life rhythms pass from your hand to your heart. People can't help but sigh that such a delicate plant has such tenacious vitality. It takes the lead in responding to the spring breeze, attracting pink, bees and butterflies and beautiful spring.
I like to watch the grass grow in midsummer. Under the caress of the scorching sun, the grass releases all the good things in life. The endless green Yuan Ye sets off all kinds of blooming flowers, and the blue sky becomes lower in the field of vision, as if bending down close to the grass.
During this time, the grass is the biggest and softest new bed, tempting us to give our bodies to them very comfortably, without anxiety and trouble, and dreaming the most relaxing dream surrounded by the grass.
When we close our eyes, the grass in the sun surrounds our sense of smell. What a sweet and delicious fragrance it is. It is not strong with all kinds of flowers, but elegant with famous brand perfume. It is the smell of cooked rice, the smell in the milk of cattle and sheep, the original smell of nature, the taste of the earth and the embrace of mother.
Yes, grass, you are the main food for cattle, horses and sheep. Through them, you become white milk, delicious meat, warm fur, and rushing power, which holds up all ethnic groups and countries.
The sky is wild, and the wind and grass move to see cattle and sheep. Time flies, as if to see a generation of hero Genghis Khan, riding a whip, commanding thousands of troops, sweeping across Eurasia, invincible. Grass created an unprecedented hero on horseback.
The long grass is so lush that the withered grass will thicken the color of the grass every autumn and winter. Wildfire can't burn it out, but the spring breeze can revive it. Flexible grass, what are you? Is it our countless humble and weak lives? We are ordinary grass people, but we can also describe spring, dress up the earth, unite weak lives, change the environment and create the world.
That familiar song sounded like a melody in my heart: no flowers/no trees/I'm an unknown grass/I'm never lonely/I'm never worried/You see my partners are all over the world. ...
References:
Rongshuxia
* In the lonely winter, there is dim yellow everywhere. Everywhere is bleak, even the once clear river has lost its luster and is sleepy under the ice. There is a mother and daughter, in the warm sunshine. Now, the mother is combing her daughter's hair. She stroked her hair gently and braided her hair gently. A smile was written on her face, as if her love could never be filled, overflowing to her mouth, flowing to the corner of her eyes and spinning into a long braid. The sun kissed the long hair, like scattered gold powder, shining with erratic brilliance. The daughter nestled in her mother's arms and kept saying something. She makes her mother laugh from time to time, and the warm family melts the cold in winter, making the winter scenery of Xiaosuo spin out the beauty of spring.
It began to snow in the evening, and then it didn't stop all night. Snowflakes fell gently on the beehive coated with black paint. The bees are sleeping. In a delicate hexagonal honeycomb, it is like a secret letter sealed with wax. Like refined pure gold particles, it was treasured by rich kings. In fact, it is more valuable than gold, because bees are living things. In the sun, their dreams are the sweetest. There are Chinese milk vetch and rape flowers in the south, Sophora japonica, jujube flowers and Vitex negundo in the north, and the first floor is blooming again. But I don't know if there will be any traces of snow in the bustling dreamland tonight. If a lovely bee wakes up quietly with the beat of snow, it will smell a wisp of fragrance falling from the sky, which is holy and magical. Unfortunately, no one is lucky enough to recover. The flowers on the earth have exhausted them.
* In the years of poverty, people can also feel some deep happiness. For example, I often remember to add a bowl of hot white rice, pour a spoonful of lard and a spoonful of soy sauce, and sit in front of the "door" (the stone steps of the hall door) to savor the aroma of lard bibimbap. Every grain of rice is full of happiness.
The happiness of life lies not in one's environment, one's position and what one can enjoy, but in how one's heart corresponds to life. Therefore, happiness is not determined by external things. The poor have their happiness, the rich have their happiness, the powerful have their happiness, and the humble have their happiness. In life, everyone has laughter and tears; In life, everyone has happiness and troubles, which is the true face of the human world.
When love passes through the cold heart like bright sunshine, we will find that love itself is a tremulous chord, a dispersion of flowers, lasting and warm, extending to others, from one hand to another, from one person to another. This is the warmth floating from the depths of the lover's soul. It awakens a tired footprint and an indifferent heart in the spiritual world. Then, the loved one will light a match in his heart with a kind of warmth, although sometimes it is so weak.
* If you are just a drop of water, but you reflect the colorful light of the sun, let the black people see the most beautiful color in the world. How important you are to the children.
No matter how small and humble, you can also write fairy tales of life in your own world and create miracles of life. Maybe. Because of you, the world has added a color. When you are brave, you should say to yourself, "I am very important, I am a landscape."
* Smile. Sing the song of life. Tears should flow for the sadness of others; Kindness should be born for a kind heart; Compassion, giving poverty to the poor; Care, warmth, loneliness and desolation.
* Death, disease, injury, injustice ... these have long existed. Moreover, there are plays in their name all the time in this world. Some sad or indignant stories once made us cry, but they were soon forgotten. Some ugly phenomena. It once filled us with indignation, but it soon gave way to exciting things. All this is just because they happen to others and are too far away from my world; Our feelings cooled, solidified and fell into the air! & amp (= National Bureau of Standards) National Bureau of Standards
On the winding lotus pond, I look forward to the leaves of Tian Tian. The leaves are high out of the water, like an elegant dancer's skirt. Layers of leaves are dotted with some white flowers, some of which bloom gracefully and some are in bud shyly; Like a pearl, like a star in the blue sky, like a beauty who just took a bath. The breeze blew, sending wisps of fragrance, like a faint song on a tall building in the distance. At this time, the leaves and flowers also trembled slightly, like lightning, passing through the lotus pond in an instant. The leaves are close side by side, so there are clear wave marks. Below the leaves is flowing water, which is covered and can't see some colors; Leaves are more exposed to the wind.
Moonlight, like running water, falls quietly on this leaf and flower. A thin layer of blue mist floats in the lotus pond. Leaves and flowers seem to have been washed in milk; Like a dream in a sarong. Although it is a full moon, there are faint clouds in the sky, so it can't shine; But I think this is just a benefit-deep sleep is indispensable, and nap is unique. Moonlight shines through the trees, and the bushes at the height cast uneven and mottled shadows, which are as steep as ghosts; The sparse shadows of curved willows seem to be painted on lotus leaves. The moonlight in the pond is uneven; But light and shadow have a harmonious melody, such as a famous song played in the Vatican.
Around the lotus pond, there are trees far and near, and willows are the most. These trees surround a lotus pond; Only on one side of the path, there are some gaps, which seem to be reserved for moonlight. An example of the color of trees is cloudy, which at first glance looks like a cloud of smoke; But the abundance of willows can be recognized in the smoke. There are distant mountains on the treetops, just a little careless. There are still one or two lamps leaking through the cracks in the tree. What is listless is the eyes of those who are sleepy. At this time, the most lively are cicadas in the tree and frogs in the water; But the excitement is theirs. I have nothing.
Half a yellow leaf falls, and I hear the sound of life withering. Yes, the geese flew south again, leaving only dead branches on the branches, and the spring water gradually dried up, and the chill came quietly. All this tells me that winter is coming.
In my opinion, winter is the least romantic season, especially in the south. It can't see the snow and ice in the north. There is no Wan Li desert in the west, and there is no sound at all. Winter in the south is always just a depression. The weather is very cold, but there is not a trace of moisture. The cold immersed in the bone marrow seems to have taken away all the warmth of the body, leaving only a cold mass that is as loose as dry floc and stuffed between the chest and lungs. In this season, people's thinking will be frozen, and even emotions and romance will be forgotten in an instant. Under such circumstances, it is difficult to raise a trace of goodwill, even if there is an occasional wish, it will soon be thrown into the corner of memory.
Standing outdoors, take a breath gently. A mass of white fog is wrapped in warm air, stretching out in mid-air, dense, and melting into dry and cold air for a long time. The little hope that was just ignited was shattered, quietly and quietly disappeared, as if it had never happened, and it was already a special kind of wetness in the trance. Xiao Shu grew into a big tree and became an old tree in winter. The branches of the old tree are staggered, and only a few scattered leaves are dotted with traces of life. The bark is slightly brown, as if it had been baked on a fire for a long time, and it has lost its spirit and is half curled, as if it would fall to the ground at any time.
In summer, only withered roots and leaves are left in the lotus pond in the mosaic field. It has long lost the charm of beads. The cold wind shook gently, withered and withered leaves, as if quietly telling the beauty of the past, and as if quietly crying for the decline of the present. If there is another cold rain, more flowers will fall, which will help Li Yishan keep listening to the rain.
The mountains in the south are no longer as tall and majestic as those in the north, but they have lost their former runlang in winter, leaving a slightly gray figure standing quietly between heaven and earth. Silently guard a silence. If there is a heavy snow in the north and the mountains are covered with white, it will be a magnificent picture and there will be new hope among the mountains. It's a pity that there is no snow in the south, just like scattered hills on the vast Jianghan Plain. Only the green shadows of pine and cypress are left in the mountains, which are as green as frost, and there is gray in the light green. From a distance, it seems to be covered by flying dust.
Standing by the river, I found that there was only a narrow gray chain left in the moat in the past, and the riverbank that used to be beaten by waves is now in a state of stagnation. The river seems to have frozen, and even the flow rate of the east injection seems to have stopped, and everything is silent.
Yes, the winter in the south can only be described as dead silence, without any movement of life. There is only one deposit slip between heaven and earth. This depressing atmosphere is full of everything, sucking away their vitality bit by bit.
Being here, I can only send my feelings to the window, send my heart to the distance, and hope to have a trace of new green and send the hope of spring.
Summer is the trekking after the sweat in spring, the warmth and enthusiasm before the bleak autumn wind, and a state of mind reserved by people before the cold winter. As a result, a series of crystallization of hope began to brew. At the same time, Xia Feng's whispering, summer rain's lingering feelings, and Xia Yun's lingering wandering also came to the fore. Spring is too luxurious, autumn is too bleak, winter is too lonely, and only summer is colorful. Looking up, the sky looks like blue seawater hanging upside down and blue satin woven by Jiangnan silk, which makes people feel the urge to touch it. Looking down, the splendid rivers and mountains are lush everywhere, with flowers in full bloom, lush trees, breezes blowing gently, green trees and red flowers swaying, and you can look out and jump between mountains and rivers; Let you sing in Xia Feng, bathe in the summer rain, stand in Xia Guang and linger in the summer night. Walking alone on campus, everywhere is green, light green, yellow green, light green and dark green. All kinds of greens are connected, staggered, undulating and changing, and the greenery is endless. The lawn has regained its former charm, flat, green and troublesome, like a circular carpet; In the flower pond, colorful and unknown flowers are all on the green lawn, showing their charm with charming posture. Gee, it's green, flashing green, like a green waterfall. Oh, morning glory! It grows so vigorously, covered with a dark gray wall, like a beautiful coat. It's more like a giant painting. The smooth and bright water and simple colors are refreshing. Up and down, I can't find its source, and I can't see its end. Only that piece of green, often green, spreads and flows in my field of vision ... It is a painting, but it is not a static painting-it is full of vitality. The breeze blows gently, the stems start to shake, the leaves start to shake, and diamond-like bright spots dance from time to time. At this time, the morning glory sticks out from the green leaves, like countless butterflies, huddled together on the gray wall, flapping its wings and showing off its beauty. They pushed each other with green leaves, tightly surrounded each other, flapping in the sun, shouting ... every leaf, every bunch of flowers, is a life, they are so lively and free, they are flowers with flashing wisdom, blooming confidently, staring at it, as if seeing a beating green life. Holding a book, shuttling between green trees and red flowers, that feeling is unspeakable warmth. Twilight comes quietly, the summer night is romantic and affectionate, and the lingering feelings of moonlight make the night's thoughts unrestrained and desirable. The scenery tonight is full of reverie and the love for nature is intoxicating. Xia is like a beautiful woman. She rolled up her green hair high, the river was her bright eyes, the blooming flowers were her lips, and the distant peaks were her wrinkled eyebrows. Reading the peace and holding the breeze, all the feelings are like a trace of swimming clouds, watching the "disk" and polishing the peace of summer. Flowers in spring and fruits in autumn all depend on the careful care of summer, which is a new starting point and grows with new hopes and expectations.