Light shop time like a piece of paper, sorrow broken to write beauty

Silently count the past, memories are like an old alley, lonely and long. Every corner is full of feelings, who did you miss? Alone at a loss, step by step to write a broken chapter, spread out the years in the hands, in the bustling depths, encountered a touch of setting sun, hurriedly waving sleeves, dragging sad footprints forward, several lights dim? Do not think about it, forget the antiquity, stained with inexplicable sadness.

Light shop time such as paper, pick up a cloud pen, find a time into ink, write full feelings. Find a long-lost romance, who would like to listen to the shoulder, sing the most beautiful poem, pour out lingering? No matter how the sun and the moon rotate, they all cling to this period of nostalgia, and after many years, I will remember those pictures of holding hands. Later, at the ferry at dusk, I fell into the whirlpool of memories, lost your most beautiful face, tied all my long-cherished wishes to the cloud tip, and left myself alone.

Drink three thousand melancholy, a song from the war who knows? Let Acacia dye paper, the feelings of indulgence can not be controlled. Never afraid to watch the night, rely on the window to sing alone, lest it is too late to brush the sleeves, tears soaked through the years. Look for you in the depths of your memory. Do you ever remember the day we met? You have red lips and teeth, peach blossoms are frowning and smiling, and you are dressed in white, and the arms of waiting are already open for you. Do not know when to start, hugging has become fragile, the vast sea of people have nowhere to know. Do not seek the afterlife, is the end of the world, how close at hand.

The years can not sleep, curl missing, across the tranquil sky. Light the candle, whirling a curtain of dreams. Take one side of the moonlight hazy, illusory into the begonia outside the window, encountered a night breeze, condensed in the morning tears, cold whose face? Then Didi lonely stalls in the palm of my hand, listening to memories surging in my mind. Do not go to the source of feelings looking forward to reunion, alone under the tree, silently counting the past flying red everywhere.

Let me sigh deeply, suddenly rub shoulders with the previous life, miss whose most beautiful face? I have been on the banks of the Wangchuan River for more than three hundred years. I never saw anyone driving a boat and came to meet me in a hurry. Pick up the stones that have been forgotten by time, throw them into the lake again and again, and the ripples outline a beautiful picture. When the wind kissed the water circles, I told myself, if this is marriage, who will imprison me mercilessly? If this is what I have been looking forward to for many years, why is it so short-lived? Looking back and forth at dusk, I want to send a lost goose, but my wings are too short to take away my heavy long-cherished wish.

May I hold a bunch of withered lotus pods, clasping slightly cool, once the youth is not there, who uses deep eyes to look at it carefully? The black vein implies a trace of melancholy, do not want to recall your once full posture, in the quiet country does not reduce the contract. However, a kind of inexplicable loss, I do not know when to stir in my heart, ask the past, who ruthlessly destroyed you, peeling off a young promise? Lost the fragrance in the gentle language of the breeze, riddled with holes in the ruthless years, I no longer look around in the world of mortals, just because you are the heart I can't touch.

Author: Moyu