Moonlight Sonata

The moonlight of the night was pouring from the high sky to the low house, and through the wooden lattice window, it was flowing on me. The original darkness was no longer so vast, and the darkness had at least retreated to four corners. I covered the glass with my fingers in the soft moonlight, which bounced mischievously against the dark roof. My eyes looked out the window again, and the cool moonlight rubbed against the clear river, silently facing forward with the nameless river.

I wake up when the moonlight is shining, and I go to sleep when the moonlight disappears. I accompanied the moonlight to walk the landscape, and the moonlight accompanied me to explore the acacia. In the countless moonlit days, there are always some jumps and falls, and there is always some coolness and warmth. I don't like the cold wind in the dark, I only like the brightness in the watch.

That heartwarming moon hangs in the night sky, filled with all the feelings of the people of the world. Moonlight has pasts and expectations; moonlight has dreams and thoughts. Cloaked in clear moonlight, I walk in the world, I walk in the moon, I stop when the moon stops, there are bends and circles, there are sorrows and joys. Moonlight has always been mine, moonlight has never been mine. Man in the moonlight, man in indifference.

The moonlight that came out of the night was painted on the banks of the cliffs, on the leaves of flowers and grasses, and on the forehead I looked back at. The moonlight is getting yellower and yellower, and too much dark green is waiting for the moonlight, revealing its own vivid true color from the darkness. If the sentient moonlight slides over the hard rock, the rock will involuntarily shed soft tears. I walked alone through the empty moonlight, and a feeling of emptiness arose in my heart.

I remembered the mountain road that I had walked on a night when no one was there, and there was silence all around, and the moonlight shone all around. Moonlight is different from sunlight, moonlight is always gentle, from the back of the rock, from the bottom of the grass tree, and even from the inside of a flower and a leaf, not at all ostentatious, not noisy at all, bringing full of clarity, bringing full of peace.

Moonlight is always connected with silence, clear, soft, will make anxiety disappear, will make uneasiness calm. The moonlight jumps on the surface of the water, crosses the path, wanders in front of the window, records the glory and death of each flower, and also records the sorrow and joy of everyone. The quiet moonlight, perhaps, should wander in the poetry line, stay in the wine glass, stored in the spring dream.

The stream was glowing with a faint moonlight, flowing silently, gently moving forward. I want to tell the evening wind, let this moonlight, let this stream slow down, so that I can talk to the flowers and trees for a while, and I want to whisper with the birds and finches for a while. But the moonlight was still hurried, and the creek was still hurried.

Blue sea, silver moonlight, sea water reflects the moonlight, blue and silver white are fused together. That scene must have something to do with the music. Those beautiful notes jump, flow, and vent, letting the sea and moonlight show a magnificent and deep beauty on the piano and violin.

The black and heavy wilderness is particularly vibrant by the moonlight. The moonlight jumps on the stream, wanders in the woods, sways among the flowers and grasses, and floats in your and my hearts. The moon's bright and faint flicker is like the gathering and dispersion of you and me; the moon's full of light spots is like your and my long-term love; the moon's silent walk is like you and me and their walking and loving. The moonlight carries you and me all the way to the unknown far away.

Pieces of moonlight, clusters of flowers. Where there is light, there is shadow, and there is love when there is a dream. Moonlight and flower shadows intertwine, dreams and emotions mingle. The moonlight shakes the shadow of the flower, showing the delicacy of the flower; the dream gives birth to infatuation and relieves your restraint. Light and shadow follow each other, you and I rely on each other, walk together, never abandon, leaving the most beautiful scenery between heaven and earth.

I have always felt that it is a luxury to be able to see flowers under the moon. The flowers bloom right in the brilliant place, the moon just shines on the flower buds, blazing and clear, dazzling and surprising, a very coincidental encounter, a very beautiful entanglement. It seems that flowers can be seen coming in the moonlight, not vulgar, not lost, walking pure, walking pure, like a painting, like a dream. Moonlight flowers, wash the body and mind.

Yearning for the moonlight-like afterlife, always clear, always quiet, it is a simple and mysterious circle center. I like the resin-like condensation that runs through my veins, and the height of the spirit in trivial words, allowing me to understand the obscure meaning of life in clear metaphors. The empty sky, the empty soul, I want to restore to a clear light, a piece of gentleness, and the birdsong of the night, the fantasy of returning to zero--