The breeze is drunk, the face is cold, and there is a poignant gloom lingering in the brilliant heart, the four seasons of flowers bloom the beauty of the lake, with a moment of love presented in the waiting corner, a waiting, a harvest, the bright season began to bloom, read the warmth of thoughts.
The flower language in my heart has changed to read, the posture under the moon is still so moving, the poignant fragrance, the drunk waiting heart, waiting for the shadow, the lost North Pole is still so affectionate, and the pride of emotion has lost the charm of the smile.
Sheng Lin's poems are so sad, the soul of love rolls up the embroidery of the rainbow, a word and a flower, blooming in the home of the heart, the wedding dress of the thought was once the other side of the dream, a lot of romantic raindrops still come so late, the poignant and dripping pride can not be brilliant from now on.
The poetry of painting was once so unlucky, or the water drops did not miss the love, when the words came in, the fragrance left, the lingering was a scar, or so cold, the reading was destined to be so sad, blindly changing, how much thought was shaken off, and the memory was still lost in the company of the shadow.
Elegant remorse is cultivated on the sad heart, the cold and warm of the season is missed, or the confession of the still circulating tears, what tears are so stubborn, what feelings are so calm, and the calm indefinite meeting is under the ruthless flowers, the wind and the moon cut the rainbow, and the soul tears off the face.
Blossoms are tears away from people, dripping off love marks, ruthless pictures of the sails of longing, raising is fate, falling is doomed, and there is a fateless past, it is tears that make me sad, it is love that makes me drunk, and the heavy morning flowers are waiting in the evening.
I said that I lost, buried the tears of love, or the flowers of tears, the traces of separation under the drunken moon, the residual candle by the bridge or the moonlight without happiness, who under the river and the sea ** the debt of love, who can pay off the encounter in this world, or the ruthlessness, the ruthlessness sent, the broken love is still so fateless.
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