Pick up the lamp and get drunk at night. The rice balls are boiling and the rice wine is boiling.
With drunkenness, the lamp is vague and elegant. Worries go with the wind.
years, thick when prepared; In the blink of an eye, there was nothing left in the red. Fortunately, the fifteenth lamp, tasted the aftertaste of the year.
Drunk and sleepless. The stove is pure green, and the lanterns are blurred, and the emotions are overflowing. The eyebrows and eyes are full, and the red lips are slightly rippling, and he wants to put his heart into neon.
Everyone has their own story. And now, in the bright Chinese New Year, we are all in the same story, or sober with our lover, or intoxicated by the hand of our son, or worried because of the deceased, or added a peaceful and undulating poetry in the hustle and bustle.
Thirty fires, fifteen lamps, missed the dream by the pillow. The lights are on, but after all, they still can't survive the dawn. The tea-soaked cups were in a hurry to rush to the Chinese New Year's Eve revelry, and forgot to wash them. Prosperity is short, but it takes too much loneliness to redeem.
The lights are soft, and they are beautiful. Suddenly, the tip of his nose was sore, and An Nuan was full of crimson, and his cheeks were thick, and he frowned but was on his heart. Pinch your fingers, it's been the last time I met someone among thousands of people!
Pick up the light and get slightly drunk, and break the steps into a dance. At night full of red lanterns, you can walk along the long street and come and go by the wind. With black hair and flying skirts, which teenager's eyes are rippling? Feathered clothes, swaying the reborn ancient willows on the side of the street, who are waiting for them, leading the way to the fireworks triumphantly.
If the heart is towards the sun, even if the night is barren, there are still starlight and night drunken lights. The sky is as good as promised, and the long-term joy is not young, and I hope that the pointer of the fireworks will never be enough. However, after tonight, it seems that it is difficult to be lazy again on the grounds of "year". The curtain opened, and what appeared on the stage of Ming'er was the plain light of the passing years.
The lights here are amiable, and the family sits idly. The tea table is full of chats, even if the story is about to change, there is no need to be alone in the black and white world.
Wave your hand, say goodbye to the New Year's grandeur, turn around and knock on the spring firewood door, graffiti the long-cherished wish of the first crazy long, the endless poetry of the pen, warm wine and tea, warm every season of joy.
The high-rise buildings with Chinese lanterns can't withstand the rush of time; The crowd dispersed, and continued to sing the sweetness of reunion in the bowl.
Snow, I'm afraid it's an extravagant hope.
The passing years, regardless of the melancholy of the world; Winter is gone, and the snow is slowly melting. The aftertaste of the festival faded into a light rain, turned off the lights, and fell asleep.
Jiachen Lantern Festival is the scene to express nostalgia.