A book of poems, full of true feelings; A volume of poetry, lamenting how many life experiences; A book of poems, sorry for many beautiful people; How many streamers of life are buried in a collection of poems.
Scenery, emotion and environment, shuttle in a volume of poetry books, wander in ancient ink paintings, and meet with time unexpectedly here.
How deep is the yard? The willow piles up smoke, but the curtain is not heavy. I imprisoned my youth, buried my life, felt sorry for myself in the flashy clouds, but I could only sigh. Time flies, but life is in a hurry. If you do it again, will the ending be different? No one will know the answer. Just, tears ask flowers to be speechless.
Once I tasted the vast sea, I felt that the water in other places was pale; Once you have experienced the clouds in Wushan, you feel that the clouds elsewhere are eclipsed. The most beautiful Chinese New Year meeting, the deepest feelings revealed, but missed each other. On the road of life, there are always some people drifting away, there are always some things too late to do, and there are always some sorrows that can only be endured silently. Grasping the most beautiful time, even for a moment, is excellent.
A volume of poetry, how much leisure. Read every sentence in the poem carefully, whether it is sadness, joy, tears of joy or silent dust. Perhaps only at this moment can I walk into the hearts of those literati thousands of years ago, to feel, to recall, to stay in the memory of time precipitation and to enjoy it alone.
Gently push open a window, let the breeze blow, and look at the streets and alleys that we have walked together. Those people in my memory have come and gone, those laughter and sighs in the past ... times have changed and everything has changed. Only those words buried by time are still deeply in my mind. It is endless hate to gather and disperse in a hurry. Golden flowers die easily, but where are the people who accompany us all our lives? Those injuries are meaningful, and there is nowhere to put them after all.
The cycle of life and death, at the end of time, the soul still walks alone between the lines. Under the moon that year, we were drunk like scenes of dreams, and the gentle breeze blew you and me. "A curtain of dreams, ten miles of tenderness" has been lingering in his mind. I seem to see Qin Guan at this time, that kind of affectionate eyes and gods, that kind of tender feelings like water, thoughtfully in the romantic months of the Millennium. My heart and my mind are deeply calm here. Meet with time, enjoy quietly in the poetry book, be happy or sad, no matter what, at least what you meet is the most beautiful.
For thousands of years, we have been sighing and regretting, but we can't throw away the fetters of the world, soothe our restless hearts, recite a book of poetry quietly and enjoy a stable time. So, try to cherish every time, every year, and embrace every beauty.
It began to rain outside the window, accompanied by "Love for ten thousand years, lingering for several times, years paved the red carpet …" floating in the distance.
Show a collection of poems and indulge in agarwood Gu Mo alone; Enjoy time safely, and indulge in quiet years alone.