Sprinkle Yaotai, wrap up, take care, and the farmhouse courtyard is happy.
In the rain of the valley, the courtyard is bathed in the spring breeze, the peach blossoms are gorgeous, and there is love in the world.
The small courtyard of the farmhouse smokes, the snow day, thousands of flowers, and the spring breeze fills the mountains and rivers all night.
Wild water floods the fields and blows rain and sprinkles mulberry hemp, and the harvest year is a happy heart, and there is no need for farmers to plant melons.
The moon shines in front of the window, the wind blows the wild fragrance all night, the harvest people are drunk, and the farmers are full of laughter in the granary.
How much do you know about the snow in the harvest year, full of joy, poetry and books to find elegance, and lightly wave the pen and ink to sprinkle pride.
In April, the harvest year is full of snow and peace, the spring breeze and rain are sprinkled, and the wild flowers are fragrant.
Competing with the wind, sprinkled to the world after the spring rain, the words are full of branches.
Rui Xuefeng is auspicious, the vicissitudes of life, the mountains are covered in silver, and the fragrance of the world is sprinkled.
The smoke of the small courtyard is rising, and it is a good year of snowfall, sprinkling how many tears in the world, and turning the rain into the mountains.
Let me go, the sideburns still remember the grandeur, the wind and dust road, and smile at the sun and moon in the clouds.
Ten years of dust and ruggedness are just waiting for leisure, gray hair, and blood is sprinkled on Guanshan.
The love is inexhaustible, the white people in the cape and clouds are old, and the moon is like a hook.
Seventy years ago, there were blood and tears, 8,000 miles away on Guanshan, and the three dilapidated houses are still there, singing all the way to return.
Walking to the end of the world, the two temples are white and dusty, and the three burrows are less beautiful.
Qingxi surrounds the house, the small bridge and the flowing water road bend the ring, the spotted wall and tiles are still there, and Guanshan is only waiting for leisure.
The geese in the clouds have not yet returned, and the spotted temples have still circled Guanshan.
Soil sideburns and hair spots, under the bright moon between the pines for thousands of miles, how difficult it is.
Guanshan is surrounded by clouds and mist, and the sideburns are covered with snow and frost, the bumpy and rugged road, and the vicissitudes of life are at your fingertips.
Between the cypress and white clouds, another year, the years are ruthless and the temples are old, and there are dreams in Guanshan.
Accompany me, step on the sound of singing, turtledoves awaken the love of Guanshan.
The white horse walks on the song, how many things are in the dust of the mountains and mountains, and the road is difficult to smooth the wind, snow, and moon.
After several years, the sideburns have been spotted, and the road is rugged and short.
Between the lines, the peak is not too late, and the two sideburns are white, and who knows.
There are many ups and downs, less joys and sorrows in the dust, the white heart is not old, and the mountain is sprinkled.
The tears are still not exhausted, always contradictory, how many autumn winds in the dust send me back.
In a dream of thousands of miles of Guanshan, sighing fluttering, looking at the way back, where to find geese in the clouds.
A bright moon hangs between the clouds, pedestrians on the road want to break their souls, and their temples are white and looking for soulmates.
Another bay, there is no inference, spring will be old, and the mountain will not be returned.
A path of moss spots, deep in the white clouds is Guanshan, the bright moon between the pines comes to take pictures, and the pedestrians on the road do not return.
Guanshan has been spotted for thousands of miles, and the road of the world is rugged and short, and there are sorrows.
has a bosom friend, sings ancient and modern, the temples are spotted and the heart is not old, and the mountains and rivers are always soul-catching.
The son traveled thousands of miles to the end of the world, his father was white and his heart was not old in the clouds, and Guan Shan looked at it from afar with tears.
Sideburns spots, Wanli Guan Mountain has been returned several times, and there is a blue sky on the road between Mo Daochen.
A line leads, wind, frost, rain and snow are bumpy and rugged, and the road is bumpy and bumpy, with a snap of your fingers.
The sound of the waterfall, speechless and affectionate, the spring breeze of mountain flowers and wild grasses accompanies me.
In the first few journeys, the green mountains and green waters are smiling, and the sound is affectionate.
The ten-mile long street is like weaving, the steps are light, the cars and horses are noisy, three or two.
Cuibi Danya spreads good words, the breeze and the moon are accompanied by the sound of groaning, and the pedestrians are ignorant and ignorant, and they greet each other with a smile.
The sassy wild goose marched south, laughing and singing joyfully, greeting each other with affection, raising a glass and drinking Tasha Xing.
The geese traveled south, greeting each other happily, celebrating together, and drinking drunk silently.
The face greets each other, the song accompanies me, the heart is drunk, the mountain flowers are full of birds, and the sound is clear.
The autumn wind is speechless to send Zhenghong, return in a hurry, how lonely, and welcome the sunset red all the way.
In the sound of firecrackers, laughter and joy are free, thousands of households welcome each other, and travelers are like a tide.
Jiangnan Road turns far away, greets each other without feeling the river bridge, seems to understand the human language, and sends the spring sound on the wicker.
People talk like the tide when they first arrive at the sea, and even the sky, they don't feel tired, and they greet each other with smiling faces.
The breeze and drizzle are silent, laughter and songs are full of joy, the two sides of the strait greet and celebrate together, and the ends of the earth are at your disposal.
Ten thousand miles, the spring breeze blows the swallow dancing flowers speechlessly, and the red bird has a voice.
Old friends greeted each other for another year, there were mantras, songs and laughter, and blessings were too great.
Songs never sleep, sheng flute and drum music play new sounds, pedestrians are like a tide, and they welcome each other like waves.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art