June, you are my dip in the nib of a bit of ink, I slowly sway, the low ups and downs of clouds will be full of days; I gently close the pen, the western sky will pull a bright Feixia; I turned a wave, the sky bridge will be full of seven-color rainbow, bright and brilliant.
Sunset evening, rare weekend leisure, I love the dream of the recliner, according to the window; there is a little bright light, through the casement warm; dreamland, thin from the fingertips slide out of the cigarette; lingering memory, burning into stars; that point through the casement warm light, according to the book I hold, ink fragrance gentle.
Heart in may flowers tired, let him rest in june calm, busy leisure; feet in may trek sleepy, let him stay in june monsoon pause; think in may spring song far away, let her stay in june scenery, linger; read in may call run tired, let her snuggle in june bosom, dependent for company.
The wind rises, the book door is gently lifted a corner of red dust, the past in the south of the city, has been hung ten miles of green willow; a pair of bright eyes, read deeply into the stream flow; let the story of June in the small city, full of Jiuquan Bell and Drum Tower.
I lean on the couch, looking up at the sky, thousands of miles deep blue, a few white clouds inlaid among them; wandering, such as the gentle wind; foot, such as the heart of the dream. Looking at clouds, suddenly feel life, in fact, I am also a cloud on that day, accompanied by wind and rain, through frost and snow, sometimes greedy for the world, do not give up; sometimes away from the noise, content with silence; sometimes a glass of wine to the moon, sing a long poem; sometimes turn mountains and water, fill in a Que new words; sometimes flowers twist grass, complacent; sometimes read a brocade chapter, deep and simple ecstasy, beautiful Yiyi.
My fair lady, gentleman good courtship, such a person, nature is not so, June wind and clouds, always a pair of lovers. West wind, instant, the sky rises thick clouds, a few green swallows, flying, diving, with the most beautiful posture, want to pierce the thick clouds overhead; Raindrops, sliding over the green swallows gentle wings, falling into dust, stirring up a little splash whisper; Green swallows across the exquisite crystal rain, gently cut off the feelings, gently cut off the sadness; Through the wind of time and space, I do not know where to blow, and where to go, the heart is always on the shore. meiwen.com.cn
Thunder and lightning, that is the love of the wind and cloud can not help the words and whispers; that is my pen tip ink incense lit June's "Li Sao"; that is the torrential Miluo River over the "Tianwen," vast red dust, where is the shore; thousands of rivers and thousands of mountains, brown most affectionate, that is the dragon boat poet Qu Yuan in the cry. Green swallow, facing the lightning light moment, ghost-like flash across the horizon, that is the soul of "Nine Chapters" want to peck up the clouds cut off; That is the wind of "Chu Ci" wants to comfort the wishes of the dead; That is the rhythm of "Nine Songs" to turn the wheel, let the strong voice of China lift the fallen Eastern Star, let love go home, flowers bloom and be ashore.
A white butterfly, from the warm casement, gently across my eyes, she does not know the wind and rain outside; dance, looking for the May flower season whether to stay in the quiet June; only the comfortable recliner, there is still the residual temperature of May flower fragrance, white butterfly, you can keep the heart; a trace of rain, wet her dance wings movement, that piece of parasol leaves, prop up the small umbrella, willing to shield her from the cold, a look back, that far away care, but in the lights.
wandering heart
Post a comment