Have fun with the words

In the world of mortals, people always sing love as a classic old song and describe it as a pair of landscape paintings. And love, as a jar of mellow daughter red to store, in this way, through the fermentation and catalysis of time, the wine is more and more seductive and fascinating.

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Sanmao once said: it takes a second to turn around and leave, and a lifetime to forget. In life, I have confirmed this sentence.

There is a kind of emotion, only a thought, can not be proud; there is a kind of looking back, only once encountered, it will be unforgettable. Tonight, I lean on the lintel of memory, looking at the thoughts in my heart and remembering the warmth in my eyes.

Thought, waved to you: good-bye! Will always forget the rivers and lakes, peace of mind no longer overlap. Never thought, the ease of waving brings the heaviness of walking. Heart, from then on there is no sustenance, no reliance. Some fate, think gone, scattered, like a gust of wind blowing light. In fact, light, the trace is still there, can only look back one step at a time, two steps a look back, as if step by step on the tip of the heart. Even forget the pain on the tip of the heart, do not forget to restore the true love, to redeem.

All say: some fate, shallow encounter, deeply cherish each other. But why can some people, even friends, can not afford to give? Is there no magnanimity and Haihan? In fact, only their own heart understand, is the depth of love, do not dare to give ah!

This reminds me of Xu Zhimo's poem "Farewell to Cambridge": gently I go, just as I gently come; I gently wave goodbye to the clouds of the western sky. Xu Zhimo's other work is not only the clouds in the western sky, but also the nostalgia for Lin Huiyin with nowhere to talk about; and I am not an acquaintance of Qinghuan. I can neither lift nor let go of the heaviness of this love. I waved my sleeves and didn't take away a piece of clouds, but I took away Acacia and worries. The obsession in my heart, such as the death of peach blossoms, is filled with the joy of mutual love, but it is mourned alone in Daiyu's funeral words. On the title page of the heart note, I wrote down a song for you with a slow voice, telling the love of my missing children. Vegetarian heart, can not leisurely walk freely in the clear water and blue sky, can only carry that other shore flower to go to the world of mortals, all the way, fragrant all the way, competing with each other in the flowers, the only one in the eye.

But for me, one is beautiful enough to be bright in my heart.

Across a curtain of moonlight, please allow me, with a cloud water Zen heart, gently recall the past? Affectionate eyes, once again stay in that flickering star contemplation, just like your floating figure flickering let me reverie. I want to find a match to light the red candle in my hand, and cut a period of candlelight to light up the economy in my heart. It's a pity that it's windy tonight, and I can't find a little match girl. Can only guard a full moon, the eastern corner of the pond that side of autumn water, infatuated look through.

In a trance, take out the red bean from the cuff and walk the pen in purples: write a piece of ice heart, in the few jade pots; write green plum tea, sour and sweet, and read you word by word between the lines. Tonight, even if I can't make the rice sticky on your chest, I would like to be the cinnabar in your heart.

On the world of mortals, it is impossible to be spotless in the end. That gentle around the heart, around, an emerald-like first heart, wound into a deep lovesickness knot, binding blood rush, can not release the heart of the carrier pigeon, retrieve the red leaf, bright feelings. Want to gorgeous turn around, let love run away, but who can guide me to swim out of the sea of mortals? Or board Noah's ark and get rid of the troubles and entanglements of the world? The sea of love is boundless, the big waves are surging into the sky, and there is no place to settle down in the end; in the end, there is no place to put my heart, suffering from the vagrancy.

Tonight, there will be no sleep, the bright moon decorates my window, whose dream will you decorate? Whose name is lucky enough to be called gently on your lips?

Eason Chan's song "long time no see", heard again and again without words and rhymes. Soft music, for me under the endless Acacia Bureau, can not iron out the wrinkles in the heart, relax the melancholy of eyebrows and eyes, do the gentle woman who dresses up by the water. Thoughts reverberate in the low melody, but can not pick up the mood scattered on the ground, for the ambiguity of the fate of Meilun, generously delimit a rest.

A tree shadow, a pool of moonlight, a window miss, so that burning thoughts nowhere to hide.

Searching, looking left and right, inadvertently look back, only to find that you are still in the dim lights. This eye, such as the sea, the thoughts in my heart, the warm current in my arms, suddenly leap out of the water. I wish I had a Poseidon needle and gave me peace of mind. Su Nian, in Xiaolongnu's lullaby, fell asleep peacefully. But tonight, the bright moon is too blurred, pouring Qinghui affectionately, unexpectedly do not know for whom and affectionate? At this time, are your eyes as affectionate as the moon, colourful with the autumn water and glowing with the moonlight?

The oolong tea held in the palm of the hand has long lost its steaming heat. Although what I drink is not wine, but a cup of tea also fascinates me. As long as the Acacia of the world is tainted with Yuehua, the enchanting thoughts can not fall from the lapel to the cuffs, and then from the fingertips to the feet. After all, the fate of entering the heart can not be easily forgotten. Not persistent, not deep, but attached to the attachment, want to dispatch, has been unable to do so. Who can give me a glass of unfeeling water, so that I will never be sad?

Perhaps, only the nostalgia that walks into the heart will not be diluted with the change of the season, nor will it be alienated by the loss of time. If you understand me, it is the mountains and rivers that meet the bosom friend; if I do not turn around, will the lingering of mandarin ducks and butterflies continue? But who can control the love of life? Who can deduce the thoughts in his heart to the end of time? Who can write the story of fate into a classic? Copyright dedecms if mindfulness is enlightened, it is perfection.

In this life, I don't know if you mistakenly entered the city of my heart? Or do I fall into your heart by mistake? That look back, fragrant my years, but bitter my fleeting time. Endless thoughts, tossing and turning in time. If you can't get out of your shadow, why not watch you for the rest of your life? Sitting in the arms of time every minute, keeping the beauty in my heart with memories, folding the first encounter of Qinghuan into a scripture, and studying it word by word, I read the piety that bowed my head and eyebrow, perhaps, my heart blossomed like a lotus.

Some fate, put down, in fact, can not lift that heavy, do not want to give up the beauty in the heart, but can not do without a scratch, eventually in the shoulder, gradually fade away and cool. If the fate of the earth still has a dream, can you come to the dream? If the story in the dream has been broken, why take great pains to look forward to the wonderful?

Would rather, with a sad mood, count the stars in the sky, looking forward to the dawn. After all, when there is no dream at midnight, the moon is also deserted, how can there be the warmth of the sun? The real one? Many worries should have been shaken off one by one, shake off the dust and taste of the world, and put them in the bright sun to dry. Otherwise, one day because of emotional dampness breeds mold, and deterioration, will not lose Bing Xin, but also lost the city?

Outside the window, the maple has empty branches, can only quietly yearn for the green spring, decorated with shadow. And the bouquet of Persian chrysanthemum in the bottle is only the cold autumn on the desk, the lonely shadow is difficult to sleep, such as me standing against the window. Only, the colorful vegetarian thoughts still linger in the eyes, clasped in the heart, full of fragrance. Why not let the feelings flooded in my heart to discharge the flood? Even if you miss a river of spring water, can not flow to your heart, but also willing to open the floodgates of feelings, to your direction thousands of miles. Perhaps, the sediment accumulated in the heart can be drawn into the torrent together, giving the soul a thorough scour and purification. In this way, even if you walk in the Jiangnan water village, you can be spotless.

The world of mortals because of you, the words are stained with the lingering and smell of fireworks. Feeling swirling, reading warm incense, now become a domino that dare not touch, as long as gently touch, the collapse is not only the scattered heart war, but also the Phantom broken in the moonlight. Although, the encounter of love, such as April Fangfei as beautiful, to the present simple and bleak season, painted with a touch of colorful, bright pictures of life, but also out of countless poems of love. But tonight, I must use the clumsy pen in my hand to write the fragrance of peach blossoms in the beautiful mountain temple, and then collect the April clouds and smoke shrouded in my heart as a forgotten souvenir.