It's raining outside the window. It's not the weather I want. Just like that patter, let the spring also gradually deep. Still remember, that year, that rainy season, you walked gently from my side, just like a touch of surprise, affected the pallor of my life.
Looking back at that time, the years were quiet and beautiful, and it seemed like a thousand years at a glance. With drunken eyes, I give you a lifetime of gentleness and inseparability. Let the loneliness in the depths of fleeting time take root and sprout in a faint lotus fragrance. After that, I will pour the city for you every day like a lotus. Moved, in the reincarnation of the years, hand in hand through the forgotten Sichuan, will be twisted into a clear song. This spring, I would like to step on a season of Fangfei, pick a note of willow color. Plant all the love on the stalk of memory. Just to always remember that we came to each other's world.
On the street, the wind and water rise. Get together, break up. Gradually get used to, a person in the warm afternoon. Round a fence and plant yellow flowers. Look forward to, you pass by the moment, you can suddenly think of me. Many times, I left myself in the wind. I hope I can meet you through the vast sea of people. Looking forward to the sunset moment, give my hand to you, let you lead me to the farther away, into the deeper spring.
After a thin spring rain, I'm going to see you. Follow Hexiang, I won't get lost. There was the sound of the wind passing by. I saw a bluebird flying from the south with a red bean. Is that you Ask it to send me the end of the world.
In fact, I already know it. Some fate, do not see, also do not break up. You are just a cloud passing through my life, occasionally projected in my city. Turn into rain and wet the flowers for a season. I think, apart from that branch lotus, no one will know how excited I should be, so that I forget the first dialogue. Fantasize, you pass by my city again. This time, I will look at it carefully, such as examining this touch of spring in front of me.
Apart from that, what can I do? Once the process has been very beautiful, just like the hyacinth just opened the moment, people tremble, at a loss. Far away, I am not afraid of wind, frost, rain and snow. Ignite the tiredness of the journey with thoughts, I am waiting for you by the newly sprouted willow. Listen, the round willow flute in the distance is the rock sound of my call, can you receive it?
The years are warm, the twinkling of an eye time empty, green hair winding all the way love. This journey is far away from the mountains and rivers. How can I cherish it so that I can live up to my lovesickness? Pick up a peach red, incense fleeting dream. Wait for the wind to come, along the eaves, along a clear word. Gazing back, whether those futile expectations will still be the color of yesterday.
Ten miles of peach blossoms have already bloomed for you. If you get lost this time, I will really leave you last year today forever. Although I will give the same tenderness and nostalgia, I only regard you as my lost soul for many years to appease. Once left without saying goodbye, let the sadness deeply rooted in the soft bottom of my heart. I cried my love forever in that year, that month, that waving intersection.
Meet into a song, turn to read. Looking back, it is inexplicable melancholy. When I think about it again, it is a feeling that I don't know. Some injuries are far away, and I really don't want to touch them again. Fragile fate, can not stand too much waiting. Smile eyebrow bend, pick up an element, I once again open the yellowing old paper in the shallow spring, quietly read you. I never left, you never really left! The original intention of understanding, the missed fate, is the fate that we can not change.
Across the pulse forget Sichuan, I have chosen to be indifferent. Turn around after the touch of sadness, dark fragrance, with the light and color of glass. The day when I am alone is a silent sea. I will gently pick up the scattered words and put them into an empty bag. When you get old, you will have a slow aftertaste.
Is the moment of reunion, so that everything is as clear as before. A month, a dream, but always wake up a quiet Wang. Obsession, has been stranded by time on the other side. Turn around, so simple, but it has become a war that can never be touched. Try to let the wet memory dry, but inadvertently piece together the picture of yesterday's love. You said you were there all the time, but I don't know how to fill the gaps in my heart.
Penetrate the love as before, fill a touch of warmth in the heart. April, which we are waiting for together, finally shows the color of spring. Filter out impetuous, oil paper umbrella open a clear south of the Yangtze River. Gather a bunch of ethereal smoke, leaving all the scenery as hazy as a picture. You are outside the painting, I am in the painting. The traces left over the years prove that we have really been here.
Yesterday, like a song. Turn around and read. Meeting you is my favorite unvoiced voice in this life. Those who talk about mulberry and hemp time, boiled into a pot of spring, a crystal clear, a bay clear, emitting a touch of fragrance. If you keep going, if you don't leave. Many years later, will you and I still look like this, as quiet as glass? I'm glad I've been here. With a long life, why do we have to ask what will happen in the future?
Quiet night, I do not know who in the brush, sprinkled a desolate ground. Meteors glide across the sky in a hurry. Leaving only the moon hanging in the willow, sad alone. Wash away the lead and remove the exhaustion on your face. In the tipsy of a cup of shallow tea, write and study the ink. Light fall, plain paper, will you promise me a lifetime of painting.
Pull tea, light incense, whose promise emaciated over the years. Who looks picturesque, shallow dance yesterday flying flowers, so that the vicissitudes of life covered a season of silent quiet beauty. Gently read, once familiar with the old days, casually intercept a section, which paragraph is full of moving and laughter. Quiet and gentle, the scenery we have seen together is engraved with many familiar and unfamiliar sounds and faces. Once upon a time, so beautiful. Lonely, so majestic. Isn't it? parting means never seeing each other again. Isn't it? being alone means dying alone. In fact, I just want to grow old quietly in the world of mortals with you.
Look at the flowers, scattered. Breeze, at first, blowing wrinkle a pool of Acacia bitter. Love is hard to say, endless reading. The drifting past settles in the tuyere of the years. Flowers bloom vaguely, whose shallow singing tactfully love the desolation. The world of mortals is picturesque and the play is not over yet. How can I be willing to leave without you.
Wandering, feeling sorry. Ren Shuishui, boundless. Holding hands, a period of time elegant. Heart marks in the eyes, who will heal them? Those, hastily forgotten by me, is precisely my deepest understanding. Qinghuan, as if embracing the lingering you give through the air. The figure of the past year, buried a green mark in my poetic fleeting years, decorated the desolation of the past.
Across the shore, Yingyi obsession. Do not care, whose determination withered who waited for a lifetime. Do not ask, in addition to the world of mortals, who is still dancing all over the sky of desire. The courtyard is so deep that it is lonely in the past. A kind of thought, glazed sparse shadow, touched the bottom of my heart sleeping time. The mountain is over there, how can I achieve it when love surrounds me?
In fact, I really want to accompany you to the bamboo forest to listen to a wind and wait for a rain. Let the wind blow away the thoughts that wrap around my heart, and let the rain wet and frown. In the face of fate, such as water, I am used to making everything as stable as ever in calmness. Light according to the fleeting years, open the dusty mind, write a touch of yearning, and let a touch of love say. Picture and ink, the shade is appropriate, you have always been my sentimentally attached to the Jiangnan painting, can not bear to give up.
The years are like cold, cold and cold. It is another year, when spring is in full bloom. I know, through thousands of people, you still understand me. Since you have fallen in love, there is no need to be deliberate. Whether you come or not, whether you are here or not, have been true. If you want to stay this time, I will still, with my thousands of amorous feelings, laugh at the vicissitudes of life with you, let meet into a song.
Author: glass sparse Film
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