The years are urging, looking for Penglai, and a wisp of apricot blossoms in the soul is still blooming.
When the spring light came to my house, the east wind dyed a thousand layers of green all the way, and I didn't see the small apricot blossoms of the year.
The fallen leaves are far away, the apricot blossoms are springy, and the stars are moving where to find the fairy trail.
In Xinghua Village, Fang Cong dreams of Weiyang, and wants to find a bosom friend and turn the corridor to the bright moon.
Another autumn, where to find the boat, self-appreciation no one asks, fragrant building.
There is nothing to look for poetry, and a few times, Fang Jing does not know to open in the east of the small bridge.
Containing the first blooming stamen, spitting incense, the stars move the world and the world change, where to find spring in the world.
The pine wind and bamboo rhyme are accompanied by the yaoqin, and the thousands of rocks are chanting freely, and the traces of Mo Dao are deep into the clouds.
Yun Ganlin, the scenery is new, the ancient temple is transmitted, and the trace is looking for a bosom friend.
If you want to find a fairy trail, you suddenly hear a bell outside the clouds, the pine breeze blows people like drunk, and thousands of mountains are always in love.
Sitting alone in the mountain, there is no trace of the old time, and the bright moon and autumn sound among the pines are thick overnight.
Yungen Gu, the moon shadow is cold, where is the fairy trace, and the twilight bell asks Youlan.
Thousands of rocks and thousands of gullies are murmuring, no one in the pine path is a sound in the Yunwai Temple, and the bird traces are in the middle of the moon at a few points.
Looking for the traces, I vaguely listened to the twilight bell in my dream, and the pine water flowed thousands of clouds and dragons.
Not a dragon clock, the years have passed for a long time, and it is self-contained.
The thousand-year-old pine, the momentum of the competition is majestic, and you want to ask a bell in the ancient temple of the fairy trace.
In a glance, the sound of pine cranes faintly spread out of the sky, and there were traces of guests.
The book mountain walks all over the deep and listens to the twilight bell, the pine welcomes the distant guests, and the fog and clouds are thick.
A bell outside the Hanshan Temple, the ancient temple is looking for the old traces for thousands of years, the green cypress and pine welcome the distant guests, and the peaks are thick with fog and clouds.
Love bamboo and good pine, thousands of rocks and ravines are often verdant, where to find the fairy trail, the night and half moon are bright and sparse clock.
The fog is hazy, the sun is red, the ancient temple is transmitted, and the visitors are looking for the fairy trail.
Looking for the old traces, listening to the sparse clock, knowing people's intentions, thousands of mountains always to the east.
In the middle of the night, the bell is gone, clear as water, and thousands of mountains are always empty.
The ancient temple is deep and self-contained, and visitors come here without a trace, only the breeze sends the evening bell.
A thousand rocks pass through a path, the pine sound crane chirps the wind in the evening, faintly spreads outside the sky, and people trace in the depths of the white clouds.
In the dream, I vaguely find the old traces, a few bells, the pine moon knows people's intentions, and thousands of rocks always go east.
The evening drum and morning bell are gradually farther away, the green lantern ancient temple is gone, the bright moon in the pine is shining for a thousand years, and the clear spring on the stone is ringing.
After the rain, the pine is pine, thousands of rocks and thousands of ravines are nowhere to be found, and the bell outside the temple.
Where to find the traces of the end of the world, listen to the twilight bell, the moon shines on the pines, the shadows are thin, and the mountains are hazy at night.
In the middle of the night, where the clouds are deep to find the fairy trace, the bright moon between the pines comes to take photos, and a thousand rocks pass through.
Hundreds of pines, thousands of mountains and thousands of ravines dance in the autumn wind, nowhere to be found, only the bell swings in the evening sky.
The dark fragrance floats horizontally and obliquely reflects the sunset, who interprets the words, and thousands of flowers stand alone.
Reflecting the sunset, the dark fragrance floating is not a mortal thing, a kind of guihua.
Who makes the pipa under the moon, a song of lovesickness in a dream, the dark fragrance floats in the heart, and the shadow sloes to my house.
Ten thousand trees and flowers, who float three thousand miles under the moon, and twelve families are sparse and sloping.
The dark fragrance floats in thousands of homes, a few sparse shadows reflect the morning glow, who is under the moon, and the flowers at the bottom of the poetic pen.
The beautiful flowers under the moon fall all over the ground, and a wisp of dark incense falls into sleep.
The night is deep, the moon in the west window floats in the breeze, and the drizzle invades.
The shadow reflects the window screen, the wind sends the dark fragrance to my house, and the flowers prefer snow, just because the moon pities her more.
Listen to the frogs under the moon, smell the birds, the wind sends the dark fragrance people to get drunk, and the bamboo shakes and sparse shadows The dream comes true.
The most pitiful, sleeping alone, a wisp of dark fragrance and sparse shadow.
Where to find the dark incense, the half-window sparse shadow under the moon**tube, I make a suqin in front of the flowers.
The sparse shadow reflects the sunset, the dark fragrance penetrates the window screen, and the spring breeze blows open and is beautiful.
Enjoying the sunset before the flowers under the moon, a wisp of dark fragrance and sparse shadow is who's home.
Pomegranate flowers, dancing in front of the wind, where does the dark fragrance go, whose house is it?
In the floating spring breeze, by the autumn water, under the moon lovesickness and loneliness, I am speechless.
Between the horizontal oblique shadows and water clouds, the world is wide, the flowers are gorgeous, and the lonely moon is leisurely.
The cold plum blossoms alone under the moon, the gentleman in the flower is suspicious, and the dark fragrance floats horizontally into a dream.
Full of Tingfang, with long dance sleeves, drifting into a dream, sparse shadows through the screen window.
The horizontal sparse shadow reflects the morning glow, and the wind sends the dark fragrance to my house, not that the flowers prefer snow, just because the moon pities her more.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art