February** Dynamic Incentive Program
With a clear thought, listen to the wind in the warmest season.
Hold a finger at the edge of the dust and look at the flowers in the greenest morning.
In the quiet melodious, only be the original self, let the heart walk on the edge of the world shallowly, without disturbing a trace of resentment. In the green onion cage with a faint time, put your heart down to the dust, simple and not humble, you can still listen to the flowers bloom, even if you are not crazy, you can still watch the tide rise.
Only put your heart into the clarity of all things in heaven and earth, and breathe comfortably with all things. A fireworks woman who makes herself work hard to be a plain and shallow heart, and tries not to let herself be controlled by scattered emotions, so she always crawls and rolls in the thin and cool words, and also wants to make herself bright as a light peach in March, but she can change her clothes, and finally find that those are not suitable for herself, I am just a plain woman, I am only suitable for light backgrounds, Nuo's dust, I have my own fireworks, I can't be elegant and gentle, I also want to be green and soothing.
One eye is clear, one eye is gazed.
A little hope, a little peace.
Falling and falling, long dreams.
Nono is affectionate and full of greenery.
The green forest and bamboo are silent, and the wind is full of smoke and drunken desert.
A blue cloud is clear and the waves are scorching.
Don't give me your affection, your affection is the dust that I can't fold. Don't give me your bleakness, your bleakness is a deep that I can't comfort. Don't give me your sorrow, your sorrow is the west wind that I can't miss. Don't give me your heart, I'm afraid I'll lose your warmest dream on the way back. Don't give me your dreams, I'm afraid I'll lose your intoxicating picture in the drift of the red dust. Listen to the floating life and see the flowers. That dream drifted away, and finally left me with endless scars.
There is no trace, how can the shallow death get through the heart door.
Thinking deeply, how to see the floating life with drunken eyes.
Hongchen, warm whose affection.
Passing years, whose dreams are shallow.
A finger of wind and dust, I just want to keep your vows to live this life.
A finger of dreams, I just want to tie your red dust into my tears.
A finger drifts, just want my thoughts to be stationed in your thin thoughts.
You say you can't see me astringent, but how do you know who my withered heart hurts without a trace.
You say you can't see me depressed, but how do you know that my dreams are full of desperation who turned around.
You say you can't see the affection in my tears, but how do you know who gave me the coldness folded in my deep eyes.
How can the floating life know the sky, a melodious wind, a thin and cold thought, and a finger of gloomy love.
Why is the moon drunk and affectionate, a nostalgic heart, a cold dream, and a sad withering.
A dream of smoke, a desert wind and moon, whose dream, whose lingering.
Whose care, whose autumn resentment.