Hands up, piano bell.
An ancient love, with time, through time and space, like an absolutely beautiful girl, drifted from far to near.
Quietly wandering in front of the window, let the excitement rest in loneliness. I dare not expect too much, for fear of disturbing butterflies with low interest.
Butterflies, as if from Xishuangbanna, bounce on two strings, layer upon layer, dense.
The sound of books and butterflies flowed slowly from the strings. Palace in the sky, I don't know what year it is.
A thin roll of love, chewed repeatedly and full of bitterness, swims between lips and teeth.
With a heavy thunder, the grievances were gathered and scattered and beaten black and blue. Once the oath was blown down by a gust of wind and fell into the space where life and death were buried.
A lonely grave, standing alone, opens a long yearning.
The wind roared. The rain is crying.
Butterfly suddenly fled in despair, awakened by a series of roaring tears, staring at me with frightened eyes and looking at history.
Heartbroken. Broken string. There is only a lingering sound.
People are drunk, dreaming, and how many people's souls are drunk? Getting drunk is the beauty of a thousand years.
The passionate butterfly refuses to leave, still waiting in memory, weaving eternal lingering and sad beauty.
Who left the most classic page in the history of love?
Ambush on all sides
The cold wind is rustling and the cold rain is sad.
With a touch of the hand, the bright moon in Qin dynasty reflects a distant story.
A hundred thousand troops rushed through skilled fingers. Jin Ge is an iron horse, and the sword shadow is heavy. The last battle for hegemony between Chu and Han quietly kicked off. It's really thrilling.
In fact, as early as in The Hong Men, Fan Zeng said that "the vertical axis is insufficient", and all the endings have already been doomed.
The battle gradually retreated, and the shouts became more and more ethereal.
Three thousand miles across the country was surrounded by a short line of defense in an instant.
Being attacked on all sides, such as a needle cone, stabbing the chest with sound, and blood boiling. The overlord of the place of Chu, waving a long sword, sighed: What about fear and fear?
The lofty sentiments that once rose from the mountains and filled the world with anger are long gone. The tears hanging in the corner of my eyes are crystal clear.
Thunder and lightning, crying.
Facing the surging Wujiang River, it left an eternal sigh for the elders in Jiangdong.
The winner is a prince and the loser is a thief. History is always history.
The autumn wind tore at the wounds of the years, and tears broke the strings. The jingle of music suddenly stopped.
The audience of later generations lost in thought:
Who wrote this Millennium regret?
Three Er Quan Yue Ying
The waning moon is like a knife and the night is like ink.
Sitting alone in the dark, erhu players have already isolated themselves from loneliness.
A dense string, a thin man.
A pair of trembling hands-fingers like firewood, gently across the tears-stained Hu Xian. The ups and downs of life are condensed on two slender and soft strings, flowing out from the fingers like spring water.
Two cold strings, with the pull of hands, began to return to the tenderness of spring water.
A bright and clean moon blanket, wrapped in a dark heart.
Full of sadness and bitterness, they merged into a tear and got into the jumping string flow. The moon, wandering leisurely in the universe, accidentally tripped, slipped over the strings and clicked on the eardrum of the blind.
Walking alone, a spring of life ripples at your feet and stirs in the hearts of listeners.
Sunset, ordinary alley. With a bleeding heart, open the boundless night and ring the long-forgotten vicissitudes.
The hope that once withered, under the constant friction of moonlight, was ignited and swayed. The night is empty, and the dawn will always pierce this thin veil.
30% off and 10% off, one song ends. Time passes like a dream. Only moonlight, like water, flooded the eyes of players and listeners.
A Bing, the bright moon decorated your rhyme, and you decorated other people's dreams, but who will decorate your dry longing and yearning?
Four high mountains and flowing water
A mountain, a river.
Sitting on the floor, with a wave of his hand, Qingshan held the fiddler away from the world of mortals, away from the noise and began to sing.
Memories are still swirling in impetuousness, and running water has begun to lick the eardrum clearly.
Dull and indifferent, extremely elegant.
Elegant players gently touch the water with dexterous fingers, and seven heartstrings sing rhythmically with the green water, singing a delicate charm and a quiet spirituality.
The benevolent Leshan, the wise happy water. The so-called bosom friend, is two people's empathy, gently, will produce a wonderful * * * vibration.
Proud and free and easy, eyes tight shut. The player filled the audience with the original picture of the small bridge flowing water.
What kind of music will be played in what mood.
My feet walk between Xiushan and Lishui, and I don't want to go ashore for a long time. But my heart has gone through the steps of just visiting and looking for my bosom friend.
Fish need water, birds need nests, and people need bosom friends.
A bosom friend is like the wings of an eagle. If you break a wing, the eagle will never fly to the sky.
My bosom friend is dead, and my heart is full of joy. Who will listen to a broken string?
The piano is broken and the sound is gone.
Full of blood, one after another sprayed into the sky, and the blood sucked the broken strings of the piano. Thousands of hearts are trembling.
Song is a bosom friend, and bosom friend is dead. What is the use of Rukoto?
Castle peak remains the same, and green water remains the same.
The famous songs sung through the ages will still ring. However, who can interpret the word "confidant"?
I hope you like it.