Late spring rain, ink spilled the yearning of Jiangnan

Early in the morning, you gently knock on my window, whether the distant you have returned. You always appear in the form of a rain, with sadness and sadness, the taste of leaving sorrow is very strong, dilute the love and hate that I miss you, maybe this is the taste of you miss me, the tenderness of a misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, lingering my whole life, drunk my flashy dream.

Met you again, or an untimely spring rain, drizzle like silk, with dots of old dreams, looking for that longing figure in the lonely street. Within reach of the cold is your distant greetings, so accidentally awakened my sleeping memory, wet is a season, wet is also I miss your dream. Standing in the rain waiting, has been carved into a landscape, this gentle wind, this wet rain, hand in hand, I wait for your persistence and sinking.

A flower, a leaf, a Bodhi, a word, a heart, a world of mortals, a poem, a painting, a song, a joys and sorrows, a loneliness. The former life is like a dream, raising the wine glass to drink but not helping the orchestra, Acacia buckle, gripping, disturbing heart, wind messy, flowers messy, chaotic heart, chaotic silent rain, whether the dreamy Jiangnan misty rain kept its promise.

Small bridge and flowing water, the Wuwa white wall, such as the ink painting of Jiangnan, is always poetic in the misty rain. The long rain lane records the loneliness, will the girl with sorrow like the lilac meet again? The weeping willow on the shore is beating the endless story of the running water, the boat in the water is looking for its own direction, the oar makes a circle of ripples, and then spreads into a broken dream, each swimming to the distant memory. I will meet a tree blooming on the road, and maybe I will stay and look at it carefully. In the fragrance of the flowers, there is my dream of missing you, and there is also the taste of you. All these are close to Cheng Yunxia. The flowers are her clothes and her face.

Years wasted the dream of memory, tossing and turning the focus of the past and the future, only walking alone in the rain, can feel your company. The yearning of the oil-paper umbrella in my hand is old and numb, but it still helps me hide the haggard of time, but can not bury the lost youth. The mottled traces on the bluestone seem to tell the change and immutability of history. It is the people who grow old and the place that remains the same. The drizzle may be the fleeting dream, but the yearning can not be moistened through the years.

A broken dream needs to pour out sad words at night, a broken candle is accompanied by a thin silhouette, the sad rain outside the window becomes a piece of music in the wind, and the sad sadness is like "Liang Zhu" played by a violin, mournful and sobbing. Peach blossoms in March began to wither after blooming, as always, staged a sad yearning. I wanted to bury the once gorgeous turn around, but the tangled vines grew crazily in the silence soaked with tears, and the love that could not last for a thousand years still lingered on the other side of the bloom, when can I end the tiredness that afflicts my body and mind? Reincarnation dreams always like to linger in the affectionate south of the Yangtze River, that picturesque encounter romantic concern about the wishes of how many people, hope that this repeated performance can retain this life if only as beautiful as the first sight.

The most beautiful April day, as if this month will not fade, but also hide the unease in the alternation of seasons, as if only to perform the most prosperous splendor. Also see the drizzle, gentle is still your cold hand, you touch my haggard thoughts, kiss the earth's hungry and burning lips. Want to get drunk in your wet arms, breathe the moist soil breath with you, and then take a walk in the obscurity of love, side by side with you, hand in hand with this brief romantic memory. The rain has been falling, it is the sorrow of lovesickness, the worry of infatuation, and the emotional and implicit tears of a lover.

Open the window of your heart, see you hiding behind the clouds for a long time crying, the heart for you broken red melancholy, the green manure red thin after the rain is a kind of speechless sad pain, is unable to peel off the Acacia distance, but also the metaphorical love war in poetry. Red and green is a classic poem, which has touched the loneliness of many people and healed the sadness of many people who do not know where their home is. The waiting in the city, the anxiety outside the city, and the tall secular city walls have become the shackles that block the blending of emotions. But the rain will fall in the city, will also fall outside the city, this cold yearning conveys infinite affectionate nostalgia and insatiable sadness. Whether inside or outside the city, if you are well, I will be sunny.

Outside the window is wet hazy, the sky is inexplicable amorous feelings of repression, bored dry in the rapid gasping for breath, eager to fall is rain, in order to alleviate the suffering of this period of time. I feel who is the crystal tears falling in the sky, with sad cold, with distant thoughts, in the calm and noise mixed with deep, glittering in the expectation of longing for reunion passion. This is an encounter with a rain, the green bamboo leaves holding your slender hand, dancing in the wind, the beauty of the wind clothes has become a scenery for people on the road to look back. You are fiddling with the crisp sound of the piano, so that it is like a string of big beads and small beads falling into a perfect piece of music on the lake. Qingyin curls out a thousand-year-old remembrance, the lingering appointment of the West Lake is a plot that does not wake up in a dream, holding hands under an umbrella in the rain carves an immortal legend on the Sansheng stone.

Jiangnan misty rain will also have the fragrance of flowers, shallow, elegant as orchid, do not want to pursue its direction, just want to hesitate to fantasize in this beautiful. Look up, smile, see the silky drizzle floating into a Tang poem and Song ci in the wind, gracefully show amorous feelings in the singles, the wind chimes under the eaves still echo the memories of your youth. The fine light rain beats the unawakened dream of the old city, wanting to meet the girl with an umbrella in the rain alley again, the miss of the shoulder will also leave a wisp of long hair fragrance, and the instant look back is so familiar and strange, just like the affection lingering in the south of the Yangtze River. No matter whether the years have shuttled through the distance of time, this misty and rainy tenderness has been imprinted on the affectionate heart like a season of flowers.

A roll of Xuan paper unfolds the old face of plain ink, and the black-and-white halo of the sunken years opens the long-lost picture, the smoke is hazy, the rain is hazy, the street view is also hazy, the bridge is vaguely, the room is vaguely, the figure is vaguely, but the person on the bridge in the painting will always be an unforgettable memory of my life. That green and astringent smile, that beautiful figure, that bright eyes and white teeth, that warm words such as fragrance, fragrant once fleeting. Walking on the bridge and crossing together on the boat is not a romantic wind and rain, but also a romantic amorous feelings, wind and rain like silk chaos, chaos I miss your sadness, chaos cut constantly, management is also chaotic affection.

A curtain of misty rain melancholy window, perhaps the annual meeting temporarily shelved the memory of the past, but this humid temperature will sprout the sadness in the memory. The former love and hate, ups and downs, such as a jar of sealed old wine, brewing bitter taste in the bottom of my heart, I do not know how many Acacia seasons will be immersed in intoxicating fragrance. Perhaps, one day white head, and then look back on the past, all the past is so calm and calm.

At night, the years of the past again appeared in the dream, it seems that the wind of these years can not blow away this affectionate memory, you always inadvertently appear in front of your eyes, a book, a cup of tea, a piece of music, all have your taste, that lovely smile, that naughty little movements, in the mind of the spirit of warmth. Close your eyes, there are tears in the dream, but the pillow is wet with romance. Stumbled a lifetime of figure wandering in the misty rain, suddenly looking back, the turn of the desolate and indifferent, with how many poetic poems can tell the gentle nostalgia, Acacia shallow, but how deep, in tears and rain to plant a flower blooming fragrance, this sentimental feelings reverberate in the drum tower in the south of the Yangtze River, whether a fleeting wind and rain can really take away my sadness.

Fireworks easy to cold, foam easy to break, the heart in the rainy night to vent the pain of sleeplessness, annoying catkins ask for the entanglement of the wind, that fell to the ground of the trouble is whose loneliness is accompanied? Listen to the bleak of the wind, listen to the feelings of the rain, haggard hazy guarding the lonely dream silence. Whose infatuation is reluctant to turn around and look back with a smile, the classic tenderness can not hide the yearning, stay, stop in the road cycle of the past affectionately. Do not feel the foot pain of falling flowers crying, instantly broke whose heart, whose dream. The smoke-filled ancient road, the belated east wind, the belated spring rain, the galloping horses, lengthened who's distant yearning, lost who's tired and tired. Who refers to the light play, snubbed the turn of the seasons, changed the appearance of the rivers and mountains, want to hide the lost green, can only linger in the painting.