Peach blossoms are in full bloom there, as gorgeous as rosy clouds all over the sky. You smile calmly, but I'm still watching here. It's raining heavily, which proves that I smile clearly. Love is so prosperous and lonely.
Get up, sit down again, and know the fate with you. This is the only tea. The end has come to me, dormant in a rain in May. Ten minutes may not be enough for a lifetime, but it is enough to make all the years old.
The sky in May is full of green glaze, and your porcelain skirt flutters with the wind. The sun shines, you put a letter in my hand and say, "I love you!" " "In three words, I was right. Since then, every dream of mine has been burdened with heavy shackles, knowing that there is no hope, but clinging to the only persistence, thinking that I can become the most beautiful scenery after all.
If youth can bet, I have put all my chips on it, just waiting for you to open the card and let me see the final victory or defeat. Who knows, you left halfway, your sleeves tilted with Changfeng, and you screwed up the gambling. No one sits in the village. This card is like a peach blossom in March, strewn at random on the lake in May and scattered all over the lake.
So I re-examined fate to see how it wrote this encounter. As dusk falls, the clouds on the horizon become darker and darker. When people walk, tea is cool, and there is a bright moon. Depending on your back, I waded through, ten feet of red dust decorated you with gorgeous flowers, and thousands of hibiscus clothes clothed you with gorgeous clothes, but you didn't look back at all. In this way, I easily crossed the vicissitudes of life.
Open your palm, the sun is very thin, just as you promised. I love you so much, so I hope you can combine your tears with your promises and see your tenderness with eternity, but I didn't expect years to herald your smile. When the wind blows everywhere, I will kill a comeback in broken arrow and trap me in the danger of never turning over.
I didn't have the courage to cry when I was crazy, but I saw the sandstorm in Wan Li when I fell to the ground. Someone sank his wrist and dialed the stirrup, and wrote a line: Jianghu I forgot. Cinnabar is like blood, shocking.
Forget it, talk easy? Beside the Yuyan Pavilion, you weave my heart into a tapestry with blue silk, and the water from the south of the Yangtze River shines on your eyes. You have always been the source of my life, nourishing my dry eyes and softening my cold and hard scab. It is better to forget yourself than to forget you.
And at night, as scheduled, still arrival, winter wind replaced the fireworks in March, looking around, I was the only one sitting at the huge table, facing a cold tea.
I can't help forgetting it.
Poetry, read it and you will know the difference.