The east wind does not understand the tourists wishes, and blows down the peach blossoms all over t

Mondo Culture Updated on 2024-02-18

When will the song of lovesickness be closed, and the nostalgia will be full of autumn.

The dream is not awake, it is always about love, like smoke and the past goes with the wind, like water flowing with tears.

Thousands of miles of nostalgia are collected, the sunset and the past go with the wind, like a dream life with tears.

I can't bear to look at it, the lovesickness is infinitely dry, and the autumn wind blows away the nostalgia and cold.

Tears flowed, looking back on the past, thousands of wisps went with the wind, and I couldn't sleep at night.

Who knows, nostalgia is late in dreams, and the past is like smoke turning into tears and giving new poems.

Provoked homesickness, fell red all over the ground like smoke and went with the wind, and made tears flow for a long time.

The past is like smoke and infinite tears, blowing off the sycamore leaves, to the pillow.

In the dream, there are vague tears, like smoke and memories of the past, a wisp of nostalgia goes with the wind, and it is always a love to fall into prosperity.

No one swept the ground, a wisp of nostalgia fell into a dream, like smoke going with the wind, and two lines of tears hung on the windowsill.

In the moonlight, the dreams are different, with the passing water, and the lovesick tears are stained with red.

The smoke is light in the eyes, the tears are in the eyes, the sycamore leaves, and a wisp of nostalgia is thousands of miles long.

Hongchen has tears, a few people know, late dreams, where to send, falling flowers and flowing water.

The autumn wind blows off the nostalgia into the dream, the past is like smoke and passing water, and the lovesickness is infinitely tearful.

The bright moon shines on the nostalgia, falling into the prosperous autumn several degrees, like smoke with the dream, lovesickness infinite tears.

A few people know about the past, when they wake up from a dream, the flowers are silent and the spring is gone, and the nostalgia is sent to whom.

The small characters on the red note are empty and tearful, the past is like smoke that cannot be chased, where to send a wisp of nostalgia, and the west wind falls on the wood and the geese fly south.

The night is not young, a wisp of nostalgia goes with the wind, and there are two lines of tears.

In the nostalgia of hatred, in the falling light, the past is unbearable to look back, and the west wind blows tears and wets the sycamore.

The past has become an idiot, the tears wet the green shirt without knowing it, the flowers fall silently and the spring is gone, and a wisp of it enters the new poem.

Tears are in my cheeks, the past is like smoke into a dream, where to send, the autumn wind blows down the dust.

Where the flowers fall silently, where to send homesickness, go with the wind, and the dreams are vaguely full of tears.

When it ends, the fallen trees are depressed like smoke and go with dreams, and tears are pouring down.

If the past is suspicious, the dream is vaguely full of tears, the moon falls and people can't sleep, and the nostalgia comes into the heart.

Glass cup, lonely who pities the sad moonlit night, Qinghui alone shines on the jade man.

Playing the pipa song in the air, it is desolate and difficult to find the Phoenix Terrace, drinking a thousand glasses of wine alone tonight, and falling into a dream sadly.

A sad lonely shadow went upstairs, desolate to the things and fell into a dream.

To the plum blossom shadow, a sad and desolate who complains, accompanied by a cold star.

Lonely and few pedestrians, the wild path is bleak and the grass is new, the yellow flowers know what I want, and they are sad and refuse to fall into the red dust.

In the sad sunshine, the highest peak, the desolate homeland is three thousand miles, and the lonely autumn mountains are twelve.

Looking into the distance, the geese are traveling, and the desolation is the most wordless hometown.

Desolate and late in dreams, the lonely lamp is the most lonely Mid-Autumn Festival, and the tall building alone is full of small poems.

For no reason, because of illness and wine, where is the return to the boat, relying on the column to hope and be sad above.

A sad lonely night, desolate to things with the moon.

Wandering alone, sad and unbearable, desolate and nowhere to find, who will come.

The bleak and desolate nights are not yet young, and the most sad is to shine on a thousand tears.

Who is the red face lonely for, when I fall into a dream, the empty boudoir is sleepless, and I look at the hometown with sad and tearful eyes.

The eyes are full of sad tears and two lines, leaving a lonely shadow to the slanting sun, desolate to the things and falling asleep.

When I fell into a dream, the shadow wandered, the Mid-Autumn Moon was full of tears.

The empty courtyard is lonely and fragrant, the moonlight is bleak and the night is not young, and the lonely lamp thinks about the past, and the sadness is broken.

A sad moon shines on the lonely city, desolate and full of the sound of falling leaves in the empty mountains.

Xiaoxuan window, two lines of tears, a desolation where to complain, a thousand loneliness for whom to be busy.

The bleak past is unbearable, where to send the lonely red dust and sadness, and pour the turbid wine alone on the tall building.

To the evening breeze, the bleak past has become empty, and I drink alone and am sad in my dreams.

The sound of the cuckoo, alone on the high-rise building, desolate and infinitely hateful, a few affectionate.

Looking at the distant sky, the most red sunset, desolate to things into a dream.

Feeling alive, who pities loneliness the most is the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the end is bright.

Yunfei Hongying banana leaves are sad, the west wind blows to wake up from a dream, and it is close to the Mid-Autumn Festival.

The autumn wind is bleak and the chrysanthemums bloom, the frost fragrance is blown, the fallen leaves are scattered with the passing water, and Feihong spreads his wings on the high platform.

Blowing through the wild goose to the south, the frost is dyed with green and faint, floating with the water, and Feihong is accompanied by the clouds.

Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art

Related Pages