In this Zhongtian, I don't believe that there are sages in the world, flowers make shadows, and the depths of the bamboo forest are good for Zen.
Mo Dao is not in this mountain, he has no confidant, and a touch of red flies outside the clouds.
The shadow of the sun is oblique, and the depths of the bamboo forest are also envious of the peach source and rich flowers.
In the depths of the cold night, the clouds cover the moon and the shadow dew and frost, where are the fairy couples, and the heavens and the earth are slim.
is also moved, there is no way out of the fog in the sky in the world, and he only walks in the depths of the White Mountain.
The sky is at a loss, not envious of the gods and only loves money, the depths of the red dust of Mo Dao are good, and the fog disperses to see the green mountains.
The clouds open and the fog disperses deep in the mountains, and the righteous path is not envious of the immortals.
In the ancient temple of Tibet, the clouds open and the fog does not know where to go, there is a real dragon.
I also envy the Nine Heavens, I don't believe that there is such a fate in the world, and two swallows fly in, and the green poplars dance in the depths.
The world is different, the two are integrated, the red dust is deep and amorous, and the clouds and wind are light into the dream.
The night is not young, it is the hometown, and the gods also envy the wealth of the world.
The meeting is not endless, where are the clouds and fog sideburns and the couple now, and the heavens and the earth are different.
The gods are purple and micro, the peach and plum are fangfei, and the clouds are open and the fog is scattered in the depths.
The April gods in the world only admire the virtuous, and the wild cranes are leisurely in the peach source.
Autumn is strong, looking for traces in the depths, where are the couples now, and the sunset is red.
There are no birds in the depths, see the green mountains, and the gods are not in the world.
It's not a fairy but also a feeling, the two are clear, the fog cover is suspicious, and it only walks in the depths of the White Mountain.
I don't believe that there is a wide cold in the world, and the gods are not safe here, and the osmanthus is not lost in the depths.
Seeing the blue sky, sleeping everywhere, come here, how can there be a paradise.
Love to the depths of the hidden artistic conception, love to the strong when the cloud note, fairy couples often accompany, heaven and earth together.
It's not that the gods are more desolate, and the clouds and mist temples bloom a few degrees of incense.
Two or three sounds, outside the village, the small buckle Chaimen people are gone, and a stream of water goes around the mountain.
The green water and green mountains surround the small house, the chaimen is half-covered with a few wisps of wind, and the chickens and dogs are more than happy with each other.
The sunset is slanting, four or five houses around the green vines, and a few wisps of cooking smoke fall all over the sky.
The smoke rises and the clouds are low, and the chickens, the yellow orioles around the trees, the purple swallows, and the spring mud.
The moon is full, the smoke curls in the blue sky, and the dog barks all the way around the front of the village.
Zen sound around, leaning on the smoke of the chai door alone, the dawn is red.
The slanting sun falls and the fragrance surrounds the soul of the dream, the smoke rises lightly, and the night returns.
A few wisps of cooking smoke enter the evening village, the rooster and the dog bark out of the fence, the mountains and rivers are suspicious, and the willows and flowers are bright and chaimen.
In the dream, I smell the chicken, the smoke starts in the west of the village, and no one responds to it, and the yellow warbler cries freely around the tree.
Around the willow branches, the guests are late, and the wind rises, which is when the neighboring chickens sing.
The door welcomes guests from afar, the willows surround the clear stream, the farmhouse, and the chickens sing the fifth watch.
The smoke and water flow of Na Na, the small village is secluded, the farmhouse is half-covered, and the moon is like a hook.
The rooster cries through the willow branches on the cooking smoke, the dog barks at the firewood door to welcome distant guests, and a crescent moon surrounds the east fence.
The fragrance surrounds my house, the chaimen half-covers the sunset slope, the starting place returns late, the dog barks and the rooster cries and the flowers fall in shock.
A curtain of dreams locks the firewood door, wraps around the jade basin, the smoke is drunk, and the rooster cries to return to the people at night.
A wisp of cooking smoke enters the picture, the rooster cries at the beginning of the dream, the clear stream flows around the house with a new rhyme, and the little dog Chai Men barks at the old man.
Ascend the building again, a few wisps of cooking smoke and firewood door to welcome distant guests, willows around Fangzhou.
A curtain of dreams surrounds the dusk, no one is seen, a few wisps of cooking smoke rise outside the village, and several chickens and dogs are heard in the courtyard.
The grass color of the chaimen is new, the clear stream is clean and dust-free, and the cooking smoke starts at the farmhouse, and no one is seen.
Between the clouds, the chickens and dogs have not returned to each other, and they can't stop crying, and the chaimen is half-hidden to the green hills.
The smoke of the chicken sound thatched shop is separated by the willow embankment, welcoming guests, and the yellow flowers are crying around the rhododendron.
is leaving the phi, in the lonely Chaimen cooking smoke village, returning from the forest.
The east wind knocked on the chai door last night, a wisp of fragrance surrounded the dream soul, several cooking smoke floated up, and the rooster cries through Xinghua Village.
The sunset is slanting, the chickens and dogs smell each other, the yellow orioles sing the green willows, and the chaimen puppies bark at the peach blossoms.
Gain or loss is none of my business, the sun and the moon are always poems, leaning on the chaimen alone to listen to the night rain, and dreaming around the spring pool.
Leaning on the chaimen alone, the starting place is the township pass, and the first bay in the south of the Motou Yangliu River.
The place is my home, wild and barren smoke is far away from the trees, and plum blossoms are falling.
The sky is sunny and the grass is Mo, whose girl is stepping into the green, a wisp rises with the wind, and the half-covered firewood door is not opened for a long time.
Winding around the sunset slope, a few crows, who is making new wine in the small courtyard, and the old trees are blooming.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art