Lonely night Acacia, new words dip red paper, only hear the dark incense, do not see the dust flying.
Crisp sleeves crippled red, hairpin curtain cage, embroidered pillow alone, brocade quilt dark thin cool.
A basket of moonlight to wipe a delicate appearance, a cup of tears, who with bathing the setting sun?
The candle flickered the phantom and the fish song haunted the boudoir.
Fragrant ink halo blue and white, long hair grudges, Phoenix crown according to mandarin duck, why not worry about?
Ten miles of peach blossoms, waiting for red makeup, safe and sound years, who drinks bud-colored green tea?
A string lonely to play the piano, a saffron robe across the world.
How do you know that floating life is like grass, wind, moon, flowers and birds laugh at the edge of dust, all!
The world of mortals, with sadness, wakes up even more heartbroken. Spring heart is as long as spring night, Acacia is like hemp!
The landscape in my heart, when will I enter your painting? Share Xiaoxiang with you?
-- inscription
On the ridge of fleeting years, who is chanting the falling past? Who is farming prosperous memories? Who planted a ridge of Acacia in the poetic years? That scattered clouds and smoke ah, curling what kind of encounter? That beautiful scenery, ah, dizzy dye what kind of meeting?
Fragrant ink into the water, Acacia to spend Hongxia, a pool of blue and white embroidered mandarin duck. The landscape in your heart is the endless picture of my book, and when will the landscape in my heart be painted by you? In this floating life like a dream of the earth, how much miss buried in the flowers before the moon, how many Acacia tune completed crimson appearance, how many hands of the promise entangled in the thin pen of the west wind, and I, always waiting for you under the curtain moon, waiting for you to walk on the breeze, holding the drizzle, composing love songs with me, watching Xiaoxiang with me, and talking about mulberry with me. If the love of the world will eventually become the last song outside the Sanskrit, if the love of the mandarin duck under the dome must be separated on both sides of the Milky way, I still cling to your city, I still fall in love with the bud-colored green tea in your cup!
In the monsoon mouth of May, I fold Acacia into a paper crane, write down a piece of sandalwood nostalgia, send to your departure ferry, accompany you at the end of the world. The world of mortals, for you Pianpian a wonderful song, drunk dance between heaven and earth, drunk dance in the tears flying under the moon. The shattered shadows gently gather the feelings parked in the ink, whispering
Ran, that piece of paper longing for the poem line through the withered time, into Yingdew, warm and moist heart that faint desolation. A piece of love hurt, the soul falls at the end of the world, a string of sadness, infect the fragrance, miss, such as rain, completed the lonely Fangfei. In the depths of the water clouds, thousands of love, looking back and smiling into thousands of happy flowers, the feelings that stop in life swaying the memory of the lake, outlined into silent joy.
The vast sea of people, we hold love with nostalgia, with Acacia buckle heart, with know warm and moist time. At the end of the day, love seems like a flash in the pan, we are separated in the tide, blocking reverie in the story of time, we know that love is like water, floating life is like a dream, wind, moon, flowers and birds laugh at the fate of dust, all. Who is counting the scars in the heavy mist when the dust and smoke are gone? Who plays the strings of resentment with the arc of tenderness in his heart? Cut a memory, put it in the clouds, and compile it into a dreamy sand painting, let the crazy love of the past leak down a little bit, fall on the long corridor of time, fall on the haggard brow bend, turn into wind, turn into rain, turn into melancholy at the end of the pen, into a cup of amber light, buried deep, hidden!
New words do not succeed, old rhymes are difficult to continue, sadness grows, and they are lazy to dress up in the mirror. The insects cry at night, the cold moon soaks the boudoir, who knows the daughter's spring night is long? Who brushes the cloud temples Phoenix crown cream? Raise eyebrows, overlook, look at the vast sky, wipe away tears and ask the sky, why can't love each other, lovesickness into tears? Can you put Acacia down with a cassock, or can you worry about it with an empty door? How many love relationships are there in this world? How many affectionately involved in the end of the world? How many Acacia fall in the Milky way? Love to the depths of loneliness, love to the vicissitudes of life when poor.
Life this book, splash ink, heavy color, cry and laugh have been moved, love and hate is life after all, no one can escape the net of love. Love is moved, there are defects, there are tears, there are sorrows, it is difficult to be perfect, difficult to live up to one's wishes. We trek across mountains and rivers all our lives, looking for the holy water that nourishes the soul and the pagoda of the soul, but it is scattered on the top of the snow-capped mountains in the fleeting wind. The road of life, no matter thorns or mud, no matter wind and frost or rain and snow all have to pass, get calm, lose indifferent, learn to be open-minded, learn to let go, delete the multiplication is a sunny day, among thousands of people, meet is fate, in thousands of years, no one is right or wrong, approaching is happiness, turn around not to leave the war, meet again over the years, smile and sip gratitude.
Occasionally, I will expect you to suddenly appear in my scattered time, startled me a curtain of quiet dreams, warm my mottled heart. Miss the season with you, miss the moonlight of the glass, miss every moment of embracing you, you know, in this deep night your face climbed again and again in the dream, you know, your chest that cinnabar enchanting into a touch of cherry flowers, filled with my thin screen window, you know, endless thoughts can cross the sky, but can no longer reach your heart, you finally in my world silent. You finally spread at the intersection of fate. I gradually learned to smile, learned to be strong, learned to be indifferent, but never forgot you, because at the edge of that season, you gentle my sad life, is you bright my cold night sky, you are always in my heart, never far away.
The summer flowers are warm in several places, and the lonely night is cold. Who feels sorry for the hollow? The lights dimmed with tears.
An encounter, finally into the past, a period of meeting, withered after the prosperity, I can only pick up the petals of memory, feel the prosperity of yesterday, taste the red residual fragrance of tea, I in the sorrow of thousands of times, write a broken chapter, memorial to the love of my life, that sentence is beautiful, sentimental thoughts ripple every plain day, and enjoy the plain time.
The years have taken away all the beautiful memories, and I am looking forward to meeting you again on the stranger of time. At the end of the years, I am looking forward to a reunion with all the smoke of gunpowder, the happiness of holding hands, and the warmth of wind and rain in the same boat.
Perhaps, everyone has a period of vicissitudes of the past, there is a window full of thoughts, there is a basket of feelings dipped in tears, whose surprise perplexed whose life? Who pushed open the half-closed door of love, Acacia flooded the window lattice? Who is picking up the tidbits of fleeting time, blindly sinking in the memory? In that old dream, you are still my most warm and colorful, I still miss you, still thank you for amazing my life, love and hate are all full of city, twist a wisp of flower rhyme, this indulge in the breeze of love into the dream, such as Jane, smile to see Guiyan, shallow words fleeting, quiet good years.
If, one day, you are tired of wandering, I would like to hold hands with you to watch the colors, enjoy the misty rain and smoke, and watch the moonlight in the lotus pond. Keep the continuous affection from the bottom of my heart, live up to the appearance I like, and live up to the blossoms of Pinellia ternata. Bright lines under the book, the breeze, and sing the drizzle, with a normal heart, flowers to see the Buddha, leaves to listen to Zen. Let love warm your spring every season, adorn your mountains and rivers every way, gorgeous every four seasons of your life, let the love in the depths of your soul feed your heart, warm every corner of your heart, ignite the florescence of your life.
Author: lan Linger QQ:1955758814
Post a comment