If you plant a flower in your heart, even if you drop a pen, it will give rise to incense.

Every season will bloom or wither some flowers, each section of the journey will be separated or meet some people, only to remember the beautiful heart and that period of prosperous time. If the heart grows a flower, it will give rise to fragrance; if the heart is like a flower, the vicissitudes of life will flourish.

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Life is like a journey, time is like a song, and after a hundred turns and thousands of times, the heart precipitates a feeling that is undisturbed and undisturbed. Because we all know that some memories will eventually be buried in the bottom of our hearts, some talk, no one will listen, and some people will eventually be passers-by. The stories of forgetting and looking at each other, reading in the heart or forgetting in the dust between clouds and waters are all sweet smells on the road of the world. The beauty of the world, in addition to looking back and gathering, should also be remembered and remembered.

A flower in full bloom a world, a leaf blooming a pursuit, prosperous or lonely, are passers-by of time. No matter how beautiful the scenery is, you will always walk by, and then the deep feelings will be speechless one day. Every season will bloom or wither some flowers, each section of the journey will be separated or meet some people, only to remember the beautiful heart and that period of prosperous time. If the heart grows a flower, it will give rise to fragrance; if the heart is like a flower, the vicissitudes of life will flourish.

Wash the lead into a plain appearance, light look at the world of mortals how much sorrow, into the world of mortals, just understand the world of mortals. Passers-by in a hurry, are missed people; missed things, are fleeting. Whose flowers bloom and fall into whose fingertips, whose sadness has infected whose eyebrows? All have nothing to do with the wind and the moon, have an affair with time, low eyebrows Acacia, a Zen tea light fleeting years of gathering and fruitless; when the charm is late, a Sanskrit sound brushed away the young ignorance; after the passage of time, have known in the corner of the season Qin warm Enron.

One person with one heart and one scenery, one mind to pay Chaoyun. Too many stories are inadvertently brushed by the shoulder, and they are written into the shade and sunny circle in the Tang and Song poems. Time can not keep the fragrance, leaving only the ink around the finger, and the origin of ink painting is the most beautiful memory of parting over the years. Once air-dried the past into shallow lines of poetry, the flowers along the way in the heart, the longer the mellow.

Sitting in the depths of a period of time, half immersed in the wind, half scattered in the dream, thinking about the past in a season of falling flowers. Always think, shallow encounter, faint forget, but inadvertently opened a piece of old ink, memories fell in the origin of the past, those affectionate past, in a season of love warm the heart of the thin cool. At this time is not sad, just review the first look back, thinking, who lost who in this fleeting time.

Every season will wither or bloom some flowers, in the world of mortals constantly repeating shoulder-to-shoulder and parting. Those who used to add fragrance to tea, poetry wine and green plum cooking wine together will disappear somewhere in the world of mortals. Only to see through the secular prosperity, the flowers withered and flourished with the season, the heart changed politely with the passing years, a tea, a wine, a clear word, to see the flowers bloom and fall another spring.

The beauty of life, always negative and affectionate, those green plum cooking wine in the past, although there are tens of thousands of amorous feelings, finally lost a season of prosperity. It takes a lot of wind to stop the dust and fragrant flowers before you know how to be at peace with the world of mortals. Run over the past like water without trace, the heart does not admire prosperity, the wind to listen to the wind, rain to appreciate the rain. A cup of tea has nothing to do with being warm and cool, but taste it leisurely.

The fragments of meeting and parting can only be sent in the world of mortals, hidden in the years, embedded in the heart. In order to endow new words, I have written too many sentences with strong feelings of smoke and willows, to trace back the stories of falling flowers and flowing water, and those poems that are infected with yearning are stained with affectionate eyes. Above the world of mortals, under the autumn water, you have to experience how many parting and how many times people walk cool before you can learn to smile and watch the people around you come and go. Now, for those beautiful old dreams, no longer forget; those wind and moon sorrow of the past, have been a moment of surprise.

Hongchen Ashram, thousands of years of falling flowers, thousands of years of running water, finally returned with the fleeting years without trace. Gorgeous moment, once in the past, in the karma party has long been decided. Still water flows its heart, everything is safe, as long as the obsession is put down, the clouds are light and breeze with a smile, thousands of thoughts are in it, leaving those familiar light warmth and Qinghuan curling fragrance in time.

Forget a Pingju Ping scattered, the heart is as smart as clouds free and easy; keep a period of time quiet, people as quiet as autumn leaves. The heart has gone through another season of fleeting time, read that period of time seems to be in front of us, those landscape stories in the plain golden years blooming undefeated, with the passage of time, the precipitation of more dark fragrance floating. Keep an indifferent, carry an elegant, meet in the years of life, remember each other's appearance, that is, keep each other warm.

/ Wolong / tr. by Phil Newell