On the high-rise building, I am alone and worried, and the leaves on the road ahead of Mo Dao have fallen a few degrees in autumn.
Drifting is not spring, who is drunk before the wind and rain after the moon, don't ask how many people in the Ming Dynasty.
The bright moon shines on the window screen, where is the home at the end of the world, and the drunken lights are not sleeping.
Where is the end of the world, when the sky is lonely, the night is quiet, and the wine is drunk in the rivers and lakes.
Drunk Liuxia, look at the falling flowers by the railing, where the breeze goes, it's my home.
More sleepless, drunk red dust, clear breeze and bright moon, the end of the world dreams of the soul.
The breeze and the moon are contrary to each other, each returning, the three cups are drunk, and they are not sleepy tonight.
Where is my home at the end of the world, the bright moon and breeze taste tea together, and the night is deeper and a wisp of drunken smoke.
Drunk and drunk, leaning on the building alone, where to go, when will the cape rest.
Leaning on the railing in the middle of the night, drunk and vaguely dreaming, the bright moon shines through the ages, where is the home mountain at the end of the world.
Where to find Fangfei in the bright moon and breeze, raise a glass to invite the shadow to return in the middle of the night.
Looking for Fangfei, accompany me back, the night is quieter and sleepless, and a glass of turbid wine is drunk and slanting.
The spring breeze drunk thousands of homes overnight, and there was a heart to shine in front of the window to shine on me, and the clear light went to the end of the world.
Shine on thousands of homes, the end of the cape is a lot, drunk and sleepless to watch the lights.
The two know each other, and the lonely lamp does not sleep where the bright moon goes, at this time.
People don't sleep, it's hard to dream of being drunk alone, and a bright moon and the end of the world share this feeling.
You should know that I am drunk at the end of the world in my dreams, and I count the stars.
The spring breeze sends warmth when the sky shines on thousands of homes, and people are even more sleepless, and the words are mulberry.
A pot of turbid wine is drunk and flowing in the glow, I don't sleep in front of the window to see the falling flowers, where does the bright moon and breeze go, and I go to the end of the world in a lovesick dream.
More people are sleepless, raise a glass to invite the shadow to get drunk with red dust, the bright moon has no heart, and there is a dream at the end of the cape.
Thousands of poems, a glass of wine, infinitely good, I don't sleep tonight to wait for you to return.
It is the hometown, the wind is slim, people are sleepless, and a glass of turbid wine is drunk and sad.
A drunk red dust is not over, it is difficult to rest, often accompanied, and the cape is white-headed.
Sleepless in the middle of the night, when the bright moon shines on me, the ends of the world condense into the eyes.
The bright moon shines on other places, the end of the world is close to the two broken intestines, picking up the lamp to find old dreams, waking up and sighing desolate.
Wandering alone under the Bodhi tree, the flowers bloom spontaneously, if there is true love, ten thousand kinds of lovesickness come into a dream.
The mirror hangs high and shines on the nine walls, and the Bodhi tree sits on the lotus platform, and no one responds to the thousands of calls, smiling and watching the red dust roll in.
All illusory, listen to Zen under the tree of 10,000 customs, and realize the Buddha's fate before.
Thousands of difficulties and dangers, several springs, listen to Zen under the Bodhi tree, and shine in front of the mirror to the jade people.
Under the tree, the truth is realized, the mirror hangs high to shine on all beings, Mo Dao red dust has no pure land, and all dangers are always related.
Selfless photos, like Bodhi unstained, true, kind and beautiful, the red dust sees through Mo wandering.
Mo Dao Hongchen swallowed Wu with thousands of volumes, listened to Zen words, and looked at Buddha beads in front of the mirror.
I can't help it, laugh and listen to Zen under the red dust tree, and look at the future.
Bodhi is a heartless tree, the mirror is not an intentional person, don't ask Hongchen how many things, thousands of difficulties and dangers will always be true.
Sad white hair, Bodhi does not have to read thousands of scriptures, see through the red dust and laugh at the past and the present.
A dream without a trace, all kinds of customs are always spring, listen to Zen under the Bodhi tree, and realize the Buddha's heart in front of the stage.
Ten thousand volumes of poetry and books can see through several reincarnations, and the Bodhi tree ** realizes right and wrong.
Mention the lifeless tree, the body is like a bright red dust, how many things, I open it alone.
Hanging high according to the ancient and modern, under the Bodhi tree to realize the Zen heart, all laws are the same, why bother to search for the red dust.
Hongchen is not home, go to the end of the world, listen to Zen under the Bodhi tree, and count the falling flowers in front of the mirror.
If you don't return it, how many years, the Bodhi tree ** realized the Buddha's fate.
Bodhi covers the old traces, the heart is like a mirror, if it is a ruthless thing, where can ten thousand kinds of romance be found.
Hanging high and slanting, it is good to settle down under the tree, and a grain of sand is called for thousands of times.
Laughing at the red dust and not looking back, the Bodhi tree sighed in front of the water.
The leaves are falling, where to find a bosom friend, listen to Zen under the tree, and understand the Buddha's heart.
A flower under the tree, shining on the end of the world, laughing at the red dust is a robe.
The mirror hangs high in the world, realizes the Zen fate, returns to the same heart and does not move, and smiles at the red dust for many years.
Riding the red dust into the sword gate, leaving no trace after thousands of calls, the Bodhi tree ** shines on the Buddha's body.
There is no trace of water, several degrees of spring, listen to Zen language, and realize the Buddha's heart in front of the stage.
Under the Bodhi tree, the Buddha and Zen, the mirror hangs high and shines on the great thousands, the red dust of Mo Dao has no pure land, and there are ten thousand heavens in the heart.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art