The way back is long, don't be long, all are scattered, only the autumn wind is injured alone.
Two lines of tears, thinking about people's intestines, hurting the past, flowers blooming and trees are chongyang.
The grass and trees have withered and the years have been long, Mo Yan has been injured, and there are two lines of tears in the dream.
One night, the east wind grass and trees were all yellow, no one asked about the intestines, and the tears stained the clothes and were cold alone.
A song breaks people's intestines, tears wet green shirts at night, ruthless flowers have hatred, and the spring breeze does not hurt Yumen.
A curtain of dreams and thousands of tears, a hundred intestines, the most sad spring people are easy to get old, and the boundless grass and trees are boundless.
The grass and trees are dry and glorious again, when will the sad past be rested, the intestines are dreaming around the home and mountains, and the tears are wet and the clothes are leaning on the building alone.
Sad and lonely, I found the grass and trees and the turbid wine to penetrate the intestines, and the tears were wet.
A glass of turbid wine breaks people's intestines, the heart is cold, the grass and trees in the three springs are withered, and the cycle of the four seasons is always hurt.
Leaving traces of empty butterflies and tears, dancing clothes and hatred break people's intestines, hurting spring since ancient times, and both glory and withering.
It's spring again, life is too short to be sad, wear the intestines, and the two sleeves are breezy and tearful wipes.
A song of acacia plants and trees is vast, leaving people's intestines, and there are several lines of sleepless tears in the middle of the night.
The intestines are empty, the rain hits the flowers, the remnants of the glory are orderly, and the autumn is not hurt.
Endure the tears, don't cry and rain, afraid of listening to the song, the most affectionate and sad past, the world is full of vicissitudes.
One year old, life is short, scratching the belly to find a good sentence, and there are two lines of tears in the dream.
Sad songs sad about the past, a hundred years of grass and trees reminiscing about the past, poor intestines cut off the end of the world, and tears were full of tears at that time.
During the Qingming Festival, there are two lines of tears, and the grass and trees are withered and broken, and there is no injury.
Two lines of wind and tears, acacia is the most branch bird, and the grass and trees are fragrant.
Autumn rhyme is always about love, a touch of the slanting sun shines brightly, the yellow orioles sing the green willows, and the purple swallows cut red English among the flowers.
The rain on the leaves is swaying, chasing the passing waves, a touch of the sun outside the mountain, and a few autumn rhymes pass in the ears.
Nourishing the bottom of my heart, in my dream, the sunset of Mo Dao is like a rainbow in the sky.
Boiling like a steamer, boiling over low heat like smoke and passing water, only pay attention to a trace of red in the heart.
The light of the victory fire pierces the eyes, like burning clouds all over the sky, and the past is like a blue at the bottom of the heart.
The spring breeze blows the willows, the selfless world is wide, like the flow of water, and the fire burns the mountain at night.
The world is wide, and when you look at the past in a dream, the blood is red and hot, and it is as strong as Lan.
The waves of the South Lake are like mirrors, the fire is like stars, and the past is selfless and the sun and moon are bright.
In the eyes, Nanshan is red and hot, like the Milky Way, the past goes with the wind, and the heart is selfless and sings.
The green mountains and green water willows are like smoke, the heart is selfless, the world is wide, and the heart is like the sea, and the blood is burning in the fire.
Send auspicious, a dream, never sleep, laughter like elixir.
Spring to the south of the Yangtze River flowers like a brocade, autumn to the north of the fire to burn the clouds, like smoke the past with the wind, the heart of the selfless world is new.
The fire trees and silver flowers flickered like stars, like smoke, the past was selfless, and the world was bright.
In a dream, the tears are hazy, the lovesickness flows eastward like water, and the fire trees and silver flowers are thick at night.
The spring breeze is like cutting willow silk, and the fire trees and silver flowers are like smoke into old dreams, and whose hearts are rippling.
Red wins fire, the wind blows the leaves and falls like flying flowers, like smoke, the past is selfless and loving.
With the passing water, a few hearts seem to wake up from a dream and then renew the relationship.
The bottom of my heart is like smoke falling nymphomaniac, and the candle flame is swaying.
Like a fairy, the fire tree and silver flowers go with the dream like smoke, and the bottom is a chanjuan.
Children hang hooks like fishing after school, like smoke where to find, a line of books.
Like smoke and memories of the past, the heart is selfless and the world is empty, like the water flowing and the flowers are falling, and the sunset is still as red as fire.
The selfless world is open, like smoke and the past is suspicious, the blood is burning into fire, and the pride seems to be surging.
The willow silk is oblique, reflecting the colorful glow, go with the dream, only pay attention to the bottom of the heart.
The sun is on fire, the light is like a rainbow, go with the dream, only pay attention to the bottom of the heart.
The past is like smoke and I can't bear to listen to it, recalling the past, leaving people's minds, blowing off the peach blossoms and making fireflies.
The selfless past in my heart is in vain, my blood is burning into fire, and my pride is like autumn.
The rain moistens the heart, a peach blossom blooms and smiles, gently swaying to welcome distant guests, and the reflection in the water ripples.
A leaf flat boat in the water, blowing clear waves, peach blossoms red like fire, the spring breeze dancing on all sides.
The weeping willows gently shake the drizzle, the reflection in the water is free, the peach blossoms do not understand the tourists' wishes, and the spring breeze is still dancing in the blue waves.
No one is seen, and the spring breeze once mirrors the empty photo, and the old dream marks are scarce.
The spring breeze and rain moisten the sky, reflect the red sun, the weeping willow silk adds beautiful color, and the reflection in the water paints the east of the bridge.
The fairy dances in the neon dress, the weeping willow gently shakes the jasper makeup, does not compete with the peach blossoms, and sends the fragrance overnight.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art