The offering of love

It is another year's spring; the east wind is soft and the flying swallow whispers like a dream in the south of the Yangtze River; the spring in the south of the Yangtze River is affectionate-the moon ice is delicate and fragrant, and the romance is new; the spring in the south of the Yangtze River is rainy-the wind is young, the rain is fat and plum, the trees are clear and round; the spring in the south of the Yangtze River is dreamy-Baochai Heng Cuifeng, thousands of miles of fragrant screen dream; cloud and rain has been desolate, Jiangnan spring grass is long.

When I was young, I couldn't help falling in love with someone secretly; then I quietly left a secret garden for him in the softest place in my heart; the grass was green and the flowers were blooming. There is the alternation of day and night, the lingering clouds and rain, the attachment of flowers and grass, and the dusty fate of the sun and the moon; then it attracts beautiful butterflies and chaste lilies that have been hidden all their lives; and then build a small house-a two-story building for himself above and for him below-because he hasn't come back yet-and I don't know if he'll come back yet. Therefore, in every sunny and affectionate afternoon, white clothes are better than snow, the skirt is swaying against the bar, quietly watching; Tingzhou has gradually born du Ruo, the material boat is on the shore, but the person is in the corner of heaven; I remember that the music book of that day, gossip, waiting for total burning; but always unable to match one cavity of tenderness, two lines of tears; flower to wine, for Iraq haggard So, in every spring night, when the moon is rare and colorful clouds are easy to disperse, you sleep in the language of Orioles, causing numerous injuries; injuring Gu Hong, breaking thousands of mountains; hurting Liuyun, only recognizing the language of drunken people, injuring Jade appearance, and powdering fragrance thin "? Who sings golden wisps for me? I once wanted to clean my heart and pick up my bags, sniffing you for thousands of miles and falling to the ends of the earth; if I could be summoned by you, I wouldn't let you see me cry; just let me see you from afar, and then quietly retire, hiding in an unmanned corner and quietly shouting your name to sleep, wake up and dry the tears of attachment in the corners of my eyes last night. Make the most solemn decision of my life-try to forget you hard, at the end of the extinction of light and shadow. It's just that I don't want to give up, so cruel and inhumane! I am really a silly child-tears for you is the fault of my life spring grass, wish the body like the moon pavilion, thousands of miles to accompany you!

I will finally cry, crying in the dawn and dusk of the Book of songs; in the pharynx and desolation of the Bamboo Branch, in the sorrow and melancholy of the Nine songs; never ask the flowers, who knows the tears in the east wind? I ask that all the sweetness and sorrow I have and once have danced; I ask that every inch of yearning and sorrow gently bloom like snow at this moment; I ask, the heart totem carefully depicted last night can forgive all my ignorance and wrong in a short moment; take me through the dusk and carry me through the weak water There will be no more flowers in my eyes, no more ups and downs in my heart, no ebb and flow in the corners of my mouth, no more joys and sorrows in my chest.

People are still long, broken mirror dust zither, a dream year after year thin; while the dream did not wake up, write down the bustling when young, Yangzhou 24 bridge moonlight is particularly enchanting, remember to get off like a running horse dragon, flowers and months are spring breeze; write down the heartbroken spring in the south of the Yangtze River, misty rain; just afraid of this unthinkable pen, broken age, covered with dust, confusion, old future.

Writing a poem, sealed with love, and doing an experiment is called the offering of love.

Author: Ma Dingqi