If I am connected with you, green mountains, clouds and water, it is just the time of this cup of tea. Then, my dear, please draw my appearance in the palm of your hand, and one day, you can still read it quietly through the years.
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Like to talk about Buddha nature, Zen rhyme, wind and moon, compassion, vitality and joy of mountains, rivers, sun and moon, engraving and unforgettable heart in poems and songs, cold and warm and pity like this and that. Everything is the story that has never been left out in the palm and ink, bit by bit of classification, strands of arrangement, perhaps, only in this way can I have a peace of mind in the complexity of communication. Life, after all, is a meeting and parting one after another, like a time dragonfly in the middle of the lake, when the ripples die down, it seems like a piece of fluorine in the hustle and bustle, and there is only one person left.
For example, if you want to be familiar with you in a strange situation, how to read it is just the affection separated by the years, turning around, or facing it, is getting longer and longer. If, after passing through the four seasons, we still can not see through the reincarnation of the world, then do not go close, to listen, then talk about the wind, the dialogue in the rain, is the unspeakable fate in life, and only to achieve dust-free, is the great love of the world, earthly Qingfen.
Sometimes, like to look back at the written words, those beautiful paragraphs of wind and moon are like the most tranquil time of fluorine in paper and ink, dying in the cause and effect of the world, precipitating in the story of time, even if, in the end, there has been a lack of a certain imprint, come to think of that cold and warm feelings, but also can be remembered, it must also come from the beautiful days. In everyone's heart, there is an irreplaceable day and night, or cry, or laugh, only follow their own nature, read the flowers once, keep the clouds blooming once, so that the scenery of the four seasons run through the heart and sea, and then you are thinking about it, bit by bit, that is the most beautiful details of life. As a woman, from once to now, I just insist on a kind of persistence, placing my mind in the text, weaving beauty in the fireworks, not to write the story of spring and snow, not to find the news of the breeze and the moon, but to warm the inner stillness, to see a kind of bright, come and go in the poem.
Those, stay in the fingers of the fragrance, because casual, because moving, so, always deliberately described by us as the most beautiful. And the delicacy hidden in the rhyme of the years, in the gap between plants and trees, in the joy of mountains and rivers, are waiting, reading, writing poems, painting, and then can be clearly claimed by time. Just like, in the rainy day in June, pick a newly exposed tea, at the moment of fragrance around the finger, the scenery will be unsplendid, I only see this touch of green between my eyebrows, that is my favorite color in the world. We, always like to listen to other people's stories, and then look for that intimate affection in other people's stories, but often ignore that we are the most pleasing scenery. So, woman, please use all the time of your life to love yourself, and then use your own gentleness to lead others. Only in this way can you be extremely calm and elegant.
Often, twist up in the details of the poem, that about a flower's mind, whether, is still in the Jiangnan misty rain alley, willing to for some passer-by and quietly bloom to extinction. Often, there will be no reason to sigh, the morning light in the memory, once full of warmth of time, and then, a turn and thin cool mood, such as running water washing white feelings, no longer the original bright and beautiful. Days, such a day of silence, perhaps the face, should also be so rustling old, so whether, do not say the whisper of falling flowers, do not listen to the sighs of clouds, do not read the sorrow of the thin wind, do not ask the news of running water, little emotions in the eyes, little secrets in the heart, after all, I am still a woman who knows how to be happy, this is enough.
More and more like to write some small words, thin, soft, with a slight smell of fireworks, such as the purple rose at the beginning of summer, the breeze blowing, is dotted with fragrance. And a person, or a little bit of leisure, a little bit of obsession, but also secretly floating emotions, even if sad and happy, it is only the scenery in the play. When you come and go, don't be full of friends, don't make a noise in the neighborhood, just warm a cup of tea, sit still, drink slowly, and then tell the words from the bottom of your heart shallowly, just like telling an old story to the mountains, and then lowering your eyebrows and smiling, just like the sun bumping into the warm arms. There is no need to haggle over the vast world of flowers and plants, who is whose and who is mine. Only the growing tendons in small words and small thoughts are in line with the sentiment of a little woman. For example, you come from the distant mountains, I am near the water, four eyes face each other, words do not need much, heart, will know.
Encounter a wonderful word, just like meeting a person, do not need to express, do not deliberately hide, think, read, as if that is the fragrance of a tree in the middle of summer, only after the breeze is blown, the eyebrows are so full of joy. The best people, can be as quiet as flowers, such as 04:00 bright, to see in the eyes, put in the heart, always properly affectionate. And the best sentences, perhaps should also be packed into the silence of blue and white porcelain, leisure time to read, let the mood touch a little fragrance, save a season of beauty, so, can also be regarded as a rich gift of time.
Master Yoshida wrote in "vain Grass" that the human heart is a flower that falls without waiting for the wind to blow. It is like a fragrance floating in the mouth of a beautiful heart. It does not need to be speculated or pinched, but with a gentle sniff, the whole world is already drunk. The meaning of Zen in that word gives you a clear understanding that all things in this world have their own rules of reproduction. Don't be crazy, not upset, don't punish, don't complain, don't blame others for unhappiness, just cultivate yourself in a corner of your mood, put compassion in your heart, gentle in words, and the flowers of life rejoice in bloom and fall.
Every time we walk, we say, try to walk slowly, because the soul is still on the road, do not throw it to the trees by the side of the road, nor to the wind that travels far away, because the trees do not understand your affection, and the wind will not accompany you to the beginning and the end. Life is the scenery of one journey after another, having seen the quiet charm of Zen, the shady trees, the quiet beauty of the landscape, the strong fragrance of flowers, and finally, how much can I keep in my eyes?
The fate in the world is often used by us in poems, paintings and more pen and ink. In fact, it is only in a piece of paper story, deep, shallow, come, go, should be leisurely and unmoved. Every day, to know how to dry the moist mood, hold a sunny in your hands, let the small emotions grow a different kind of verdant in the heart sea, so that there will be endless fragrance decorating your dreams.
She said, if you look at the first apricot blossom in spring, it looks like you once watched with love, blooming enthusiastically and forgetting, as if you tried your best to have a happy ending, however, when the flowering period failed, you are just a green fruit that no one asks any more. Perhaps, this earthly cause and effect never need to comment wantonly, or in the wind, or in the rain, or in the dust, or in the dream, she is just open, not to make others laugh, not to listen to others good, such a kind of fragrance, but also wish, heart, cry, bitter, smile, demon, after that, can gently pick up an understanding. March has passed, April has passed, May is also about to pass, just like emotion, it will eventually break branches, trample on, scattered, the scenery of this life is so one after another, and I, just want to be that green fruit, watch the alternation of wind and rain, watch the fireworks go out, and see who can stick to the original promise among millions of noises. the interpretation of the four seasons of life is in full swing.
She finished writing and invited me to read it. Is a dialogue, is a year of January charm, is full of poetic bones and pull out strands of reading. Stories, always such prologue, after the same plot, but a summer flower, blooming in the brow, beauty in the clouds, but also old in the veins of time.
Words / flowers are speechless
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