I don't know how many springs, how many wisps of affection, time, with a flick of the fingers, crossed the window of the season. In the shallow summer, with the lightness of a bird, it is turning into fluttering raindrops, stirring up layers of ripples.
The wind passed through the shore of the willow embankment, like a scene of boundless melancholy, with the thought of a comeback, hanging in the blue sky, crashing the past into my dreamland.
A wisp of paper cigarettes that can't be quit, and a few cups of tea come back as promised. Every sip of sweet and bitter taste, every cup of gentle beauty, are all looking for your day and night. The thoughts of the evening breeze blowing, but the mark left by your earnest words? Listen carefully, as if lingering around the corner of the season.
The shallow summer is like a roar, and I can't get around the footprints of the evening breeze drunk, like me, like you, in that waterfront in the south of the Yangtze River.
Who knows, in the past of the spring breeze singing, how many red sleeves and green clothes are left, and the overture of the evening breeze seems to be overwhelming, but I can't find a beautiful mood.
Over the years, who has written and written, painted an endless river, who played the song into a song, comforted the lonely life, and the fate of the dust, He Nai has a thousand words, which can be worth a cherish, a cherish.
I always thought that your love must have a name married, and my love can neither be included in ancient books nor recorded in historical records. Perhaps, the only thing that can be famous through the ages can only be yesterday's monsoon and tomorrow's summer rains.
Hongchen Ferry, watching the rain in the south of the Yangtze River, thinking about your first appearance, I am in the bustling shallow summer, please enter the wind, look forward to the moon with the window. No matter how the spring rain records my heart, no matter how you don't forget this in the shallow summer, in that falling flowers and flowing water yesterday, is there still an oil-paper umbrella walking through the rain alley where the wind and smoke are scattered, quietly placing the leaves in the vast, and the white dew is frost? Don't think of the grass and the warbler flying, don't think about the day and night, just wait for the flowers to be gentle, and the people are fragrant.
I want to spread the song in the forest into a wisp of chant for your coming day, and drunk a selfless joy on the night without you; I want to think about it, the taste in my arms, chant a midnight drunk in the coming year, when the autumn color is blurred and the moon is full, bring the tone of osmanthus to snuggle up on your pillow. A fragrant flower in your dreams; A flower blooms in my heart, overnight, a dusty thought, and a fragrance over the years.
The mountains and rivers are inexhaustible, and the years do not change their feelings. If the encounter between flowers and rain is a reunion after a long absence; So, the alternation of spring and summer, can we still dismantle how many joys and sorrows and clutches in the world? Perhaps, some fate can only be eternal in the heart, and some love is only suitable for immortality in time. Perhaps, in the world, how much love can make me verdant, how much marriage will make you tired. In the world, who can escape the catastrophe of love, and who can avoid the original sin of returning after the dispersion of thousands of gold?
Fireworks are easy to cold, and people's hearts are fickle. Perhaps, in this world, the person with the deepest affection will always belong to the one who is willing to be lonely and lonely. No matter how many colorful voices there are, no matter how many thousands of ancient honey words are, they can't withstand a memory in the depths of time. Otherwise, how can you afford to collect this one in your eyes and that one in your eyes?
Whose flowers have fallen at the intersection you must pass through, just for a heart-to-heart encounter? Whose thoughts hang in my lonely night sky, just to be with me for sleepless moments? If, the years can be followed, why might I take my heart on a small boat to spend the night with you, if, time can wait, why not build your gentleness into a nest of geese and get along with me day and night. You borrow the evening breeze to study ink, I Xu Chenlu moistens the pen, at the moment when a flower blooms and falls, write a sentence of love and draw a toothless and unforgettable. Let the spring flowers and autumn moon, the hope of summer rain and winter snow, according to the gentle direction of the evening breeze, both pairs of pairs, soaring with wings.
Qianmo Hongchen, how much loneliness does it take to pillow in order to usher in a warm winter and cool summer; How many times do you have to look forward to the autumn water to resolve the rush of the wild goose coming and going? Perhaps, not every fate in life will be remembered forever; And a faint encounter, but it has already become a laugh for eternity? Needless to say, the sky is desolate, not for a long time, just waiting for the gentleness of the weeping willows, and the heart between the eyebrows that are drunk by the spring breeze again?
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