If there is an afterlife, be a tree and stand in an eternal, joyful posture. Half serene in the soil, half flying in the wind, half sprinkling shade, half bathing in sunshine, very silent and very proud, never relying on never looking.
In that life, you are a butterfly, I am a falling flower, the flower heart has been broken, the butterfly wing is the end of the world, that life, you are the stars, I am the crescent moon, the shadows are wrong, the empty negative years, that life, you are the singer, I am the pipa, the chaotic world song, the affectionate world, the golden iron horse, the water moon mirror flower, Rong Hua a moment, the wisp of green smoke that has been passed down from generation to generation, dotted with the fairy tale of your and my friendship. Don't ask about the nobility, don't care about the flashiness, three thousand huafa, a lifetime of worry.
If you are well, it is a sunny day. If you are happy, it is the end. If you bloom, the breeze will come. If you shed tears, wet my heart first. If you smile, the sun will fall. If you are not in charge, if you are warm in the city. If you remember, it is half warm and pouring out. If you look back, you will smile and fall into the city. If you leave, there will be no end in sight. If you do not leave, I will not abandon you.
Go meet the people you want to meet. Take advantage of the sunshine, take advantage of the breeze is not noisy, take advantage of the flowers that have not yet bloomed to the grass, take advantage of the fact that you are still young, you can still walk a long, long way, you can also tell deep and deep thoughts, when the world is not so crowded, when the plane has not yet taken off, when your hands can still embrace each other, while we still breathe.
Four years of dark toil, pleasure in the January sun, this is the life of the cicada, and we should not be disgusted by the noisy exaggerations in its song. Because it had been digging for four years, it was now suddenly dressed in beautiful clothes, growing wings that rivaled birds, and bathing in the warm sunlight. The sound of that cymbal can be high enough to celebrate its joy, so rare, and so short.
Your face is light and breezy, and no one knows how tightly your teeth are clenched. You walk with the wind, and no one knows that you still have bruises on your knees that you have fallen. You laugh heartlessly and lunglessly, and no one knows that you can only cry silently when you cry. To make people feel effortless, you can only work extremely hard behind your back. We don't have a future that can't be changed, only a past that we don't want to change.
The buds of the flowers that are ready to bloom have been baptized by rain, sharpened by snow, bathed by sunshine; after the test of summer, the care of autumn, and the nurturing of winter, a moving smile bloomed. Peach Blossom took the lead, collectively revealing a pink face. Pear Blossom was not far behind, with a pure and shy smile. Spring flowers are the symbol of spring, yellow and yellow dresses, gently wrapped around. Lilacs, in a small corner, bloom their own purple, fresh and elegant.
All the endings have been written, all the tears have begun, but suddenly forgot what kind of a beginning it was, in that ancient summer day that did not come back, no matter how much I went to pursue, the young you were only like a cloud shadow, and your smiling face was extremely shallow and faint, gradually disappearing into the group after sunset, so I opened the yellowed title page, fate bound it extremely poorly, with tears I read it again and again, but I had to admit that youth is a book that is too hasty.
Walking and walking, it dispersed, the memories faded; looking at it, it was tired, the starlight was dimmed; listening and listening, I woke up and began to complain; looked back and found that you were gone, and suddenly I was confused.
I want someone like you. People as bright and refreshing as this mountain morning, like people who rush to the sun on the road to the ancient city, warm but not hot, covering all my skin. From the beginning to the night, from the mountains to the study, the answer to all the questions is simple. I hope that there is a person like you, who will carry out the road sign of the future and repeat the life several times.
There are four seasons of the year, each with a different view, and I like the stunning view when it snows in winter. In winter, the snow flies and people seem to come to a quiet and idyllic realm, to a crystal clear fairytale world. The fragrance of pine and the ice fragrance of white snow give people a kind of cool and soothing comfort. Everything is filtering, everything is sublimating, even my soul is purifying, becoming pure and beautiful.
The evening rain was exceptionally fresh, and my mood tonight was like the autumn rain, with a faint sadness. Walking alone on the country road, perhaps because of the company of the autumn rain, does not seem to feel lonely. The autumn rain drenched my heart and soothed my mood. All the loneliness went away with the autumn wind, leaving me and autumn rain to tell each other's hearts. As if it were a dream.