The world is empty, and Mo Dao is a hero in the world
A small building, a few spring and autumn, and look at how many things are in the red dust, and the Mojiao years are blank.
Don't sigh how thin your face is, and look at who has white hair since ancient times, the first fragrance in heaven and earth.
There is little true love, don't ask Hongchen to fake a lot, and since ancient times, where is not singing.
Good son, scholars in heaven and earth have no great ambitions, and there are vicissitudes.
It's not as good as the canal, return to the field and end the grass, and the fish can see the book of heaven in the abyss.
Hearing the barking of dogs, there is no way to send things on the side of the ditch, and the geese do not sing.
The underwater ichthyosaurus years are secretly urging, and the old heart is still strong, and the wine glass.
In the middle of the night, the sound of books fell into a dream, the fish sank and the geese fell a few wanders, a canal of clear water flowed eastward, and the green houses on both sides of the strait opened one after another.
The bright moon shines on the cold canal, a piece of ice heart is in the jade house, the dragon gate is wide in the world, and the book is a brocade character.
Around my house, free in the canal, infinitely good, the wind and moon in front of you do not close the fish.
The fish in the wrinkled water, the boat carries my book, the canal has passed, and the depths of the white clouds are my house.
Thousands of miles of rivers and mountains are a paper book, what does it mean, affectionate, but send acacia to the moon.
The canal water is silent, deliberately planted around the house, the fish is shallow and the tourists are drunk, and the geese are in the air.
I have been to this mountain house, and today I came back to see the canal, and the remnants of the book disappeared from the eternal day, and the bamboo was repaired with several rods to catch cold fish.
Don't fish dragons, only envy fishing, read poetry and books, a clear water is as clear as a promise, why bother looking for the old house.
The green lantern shines without words, the fish and geese transmit the sound and the dream has traces, the canal water is inexhaustible, and the people are far away.
It's not as good as the canal, why don't you know the shallow water in the abyss when you get old, and look at the book of heaven.
The breeze and the bright moon shine on the cold house, around the small ditch, a volume of poetry and books to eliminate the eternal night, and half a pot of turbid wine to catch fat fish.
Don't eat often think about fish, Zimei has a book to send geese, I sigh for Qu San today, and the water in front of the mountain is like practice.
Green into a book, clear water, green mountains, fish playing with pearls, blooming, fragrant ten miles to my house.
I am proud of one thing, and the sound of the book and the rhyme are true.
Entering my house, a piece of ice-hearted scholar has no ambitions, and five carts of fish.
The Jun family has wine and I have no fish, and I don't need books for three meals a day, but Qu Nong is really rich, so why work hard to love my house.
I don't see the canal, the green mountains are still the island and the turmoil is evil, don't forget the blood and tears of the year.
The human environment is like a fairy town, the canal water is gurgling and the stone path is long, a volume of poetry and books disappears the eternal day, and the shallow bottom plays the lotus pond.
Fish and dragons get the water to pass the book is not famous, I want to see the tide from the canal river.
Reading the books of the sages is only for people to be free from the world and full of people.
The spring breeze doesn't care about the canal, the old people send each other to my house, lonely and no news, only a paper book.
Acacia is broken, wet red makeup, and the bright moon is passed on to the heart, how many people hide it in their dreams.
Where to find a bosom friend with tears, leave, and sustenance lovesickness until late at night.
Hongyan passed the ruler element, and he didn't know that he was the most lovesick and bitter, and his tears fell silently and wet his clothes.
It is difficult to dream without people, the wild goose can pass on the book, and the broken intestine is the most when to shine the tear candle.
Say goodbye to the tears after many years, and want to leave people thousands of miles of frost.
Tears are in the line, lovesickness is broken, waking up from a dream is far away, and the affection is long.
Lovesick and asleep, a few hesitations, and the most broken intestines are red dust and tears.
If you leave people and don't return to your hometown, send them far away, where the broken intestines and flowers fall, and the lovesickness will have infinite tears.
In the sound of broken intestines, Xiaoxiang is remembered, and the tears are wet and the green shirt is not young, and the spring breeze will return to his home country one day.
Clear tears, broken intestines, sad places, lovesickness to Jiuquan.
Entrusting Feihong should have a letter, when will he be gone, and the broken intestines are the most Xiaoxiang rain, and the tears of lovesickness are not dry.
Thousands of miles away from people's hearts and lovesickness, tonight's broken intestines turned into rain.
A few sorrows, for whom to flow, pinning the bright moon to pass on the heart, Mojiao is away from the empty building.
The wanderer of the end of the world is in tears, hoping to return to Hong and leave people with infinite hatred, and pinning Mingyue on his heart.
According to Xiaoxiang, I don't see people far away, and a song of acacia tears enters the poem.
Don't hate long, the most acacia sustenance is the west wind tight, and the tears are two lines.
I want to break my bowels, clear my tears and wet red makeup, and my lovesickness leaves people to fall asleep.
A dream, broken intestines everywhere to solve lovesickness, the wind sent far away.
The bright moon is sad from people's hearts, and the lovesickness is broken, which is the king's flow.
The most is to leave people's hearts and hurt, lovesick geese into a row, the autumn wind rises in the sound of broken intestines, and blows off yellow flowers and tears.
The spring breeze blew the intestines, and several times in the dream of tears, pinning the southern flying geese, and carrying away thousands of wounds.
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