Hejia lane
The rain is ticking and the night is slow.
Who neglected the fragrance of flowers? Who tirelessly listens to the cry of rain in the dark?
Tossing and turning, the old pillow still has residual temperature. Do you know that spring has melted into the tears under your eyes?
The mood and fragrance in March are still the most romantic and sad memories.
I let time flow like running water, and I can't take away any pain. When flowers bloom in spring, sadness comes again.
Why does our pain choose when flowers bloom? I hate fireworks going with the clouds, and I hate being drunk by flowers.
Flowers and plants are unintentional, and people are affectionate.
Love is romantic and drunk, and reading is gaunt.
There are different kinds of prosperity and decline. It's just that a tear is cold and freezes that feeling.
I guarded the beauty in the spring night, and I was fascinated by the desolation in the wind and rain.
The leaves are new, the petals are scattered and the bones are flying.
The loose soil is muddy, burying the flowering period and hiding the scars.
Ticking eaves rain and ticking bells, it is not clear whether the eaves rain drowned the bells or the bells awakened them.
There will always be that corner of color and that piece of heart music in the integration.
Frogs are sparse and Yan language is implicit.
Mulberry fields are moist, and new branches are tender.
When love blooms in spring, sadness returns to the leaves.
The moon is covered with clouds, and the sun rises in Ran Ran in the rosy sky.
After a love finally breaks, a hate is always a matter of time.
The breeze and bright moon let go, and the wind and rain add sorrow.
Half a bottle of wine makes Qing Ye green and fragrant.
Where there is rain, there are jobs where youth stays.
Where there is wind, there is unforgettable dance.
Step by step, the dream will eventually wake up, just waking up under different eaves.
In the early days, we never kept our youth, never communicated and confided with our youth.
We have been swimming in the dream of youth, until the years have stripped the youth to life, and we have broken away from the shackles of the years, only to know that people are old and have no traces of the years.
Thirty years of free and easy, youth has already changed its appearance, as silent as falling flowers, as ruthless as running water, as yellow as autumn grass.
People say that youth is born with mountains and shines with the sun and the moon.
But I want to say that youth is sealed, buried by flowers, covered by water, covered by leaves, rolled up by clouds and swallowed up by the sea. ...
The wind has come, the rain has gone, people have come, and spring has not.
The fragrance is strong when the flowers bloom, but it is still there when the flowers fall. Only broken tidbits, withered flower bones, a spring velvet.
All loves, a full face of youth.
What is lost will disappear forever. Always cherish what you get.
The past is also the most precious. The present is also invisible and precious.
We can't get back the past, but we have laws to keep the present.
Spring has come, youth is still alive, spring has gone, and youth is still there. We can't repeat the fleeting melody, but we can whisper our footsteps.
There are colored mountains, water, water and boats.
With each other, people are thicker.
Youth, smile like a flower. Youth is as unrestrained as water.
I'm out of tune with the song of youth and keep humming.
Changed the taste of the smile, has been left unlocked.
The scenery is the same, but the mood and eyes are different.
Come on, what is spring like? Dispel, a cavity is sad.
Red, green, yellow, yellowish green, Yingying, Yanyan, bee, bee, butterfly, butterfly. Drunk with all the spring scenery, covered with a sad curtain.
One by one, one by one. Youth is in full bloom, how can it hurt the flowering period and not complain about rainy nights?