The light boat crosses slightly, allowing you to have a few dreams, falling on the deck, tears on your clothes, and scattered dust;Lou Xuan railing, only you are obsessed with it, clever smiles, smoke waves, and childlike innocence.
Yi Gu Xi is a micro minister, Shanshan is cute, Yi is smiling and looking forward, Zheng Zheng oaths, Yi Qiao Xi Jinwujiao, Momo Qingwa. The lips are touched, the eyes are bright and the teeth are bright, the cheeks are like clotted fat, the hands are like slender vines, Yi Wangwuxi, the heart is Bo Yechuan, the Yiguan Wuxi, and the heart is ragged.
Jiangnan lotus leaves, pond lotus shy, sweet water, rock support, hills, green trees and vines, mottled and moving, talk to each other.
Or there are weeds next to it, the weeds are bright, the prosperous green, the blue is faint, there are flower fairies on the side, the fragrance is moist, the jade pavilion is straight, and it is dotted in the meantime.
But see the middle and evening birds in Zhu, absorb the water and cry, occasionally there are deer singing apes and turtles, howling in the ancient forest, or see a Chinese girl, non-absolute ghost, white-clothed Su embroidery, about the posture, if the clouds come out of the distance and look closely, if the lotus leaves are dripping, clear and wet, slightly light.
The evening breeze is blowing, Yi is walking from his own line, Zhenyuan Mountain Qingdai, overlooking the mountains and green peaks, the woman in the dream, slowly floating, smiling, shadowing Penglai, floating feather Jiangzhou, the void mountain stream, I am looking for myself, the chrysanthemum garden of Linan Mountain, the five mountains of Yingzhou.
I only saw the falcon and the lily hat, the remnants of the wood were bleak and cold, the mountain cliffs were dark and fragrant, the fish and shrimp by the stream, the crossing by the state, the kite in the north of Qinghai-Tibet, the tiger roaring valley gorge, the crane stepping on the sea of clouds, and the mosquitoes and flies in the burrow.
Or there are mayflies, buried in the wilderness overnight, the distant mountains are fragrant, the shadows of the trees are mottled, the tile walls are overturned, it is already the tip of the morning dew grass, the body is tired, looking for the sky, it is gone, the ethereal world, if it is true or false.
One night of cloud sails, the ocean is all over the world, the sky is bright, the teeth are dotted, a note of love, a few dreams, splashing ink landscapes, and light boats.
I think that back then, hand in hand with Yi, under the autumn wind and moon, the black canopy boat, the small bridge people, it was the darkness of the Milky Way, the sky treading the waves, the moonlit night flowing spring, and the cloud born sea building.
In the past, holding hands with Yi, holding sideburns for a hundred years, chanting poems in the attic, plowing and weaving before flowers, if only the first sight, the autumn wind painted a fan.
Plain white yarn, and golden hairpin, Yi Xi unforgettable, grass and trees, plum bamboo cold, Yi Xi side bank, a note of love, several nightmares, the party is a thousand years of waiting, 10,000 years of white heads, the boudoir is quiet, the candle light is dimmed, only my heart is ragged, I am buried Yi.
In that year and month, I looked for you alone, covered with white sails, stepped on the horse river, read poetry and books, drove white horses, raised the breeze, the west wind plugged down, and the ancient vines and trees were old.
Unexpectedly, Yirenjue, the cliffside, the traces of escape, the lack of affection, the lack of heart, let me down, like this, the head is scattered, the end of the intestines, a note of love and thought, several dreams quietly white.
Wandering in the night, unforgettable, wishful thinking, full of resentment, rivers and lakes, blood hatred, Yiren Jue, tears and hatred.