1.
A light rain moistened the face of the sky. It is as if the water rouge on the cheeks of the old green women is glowing with the lightness and confusion unique to Jiangnan pink dai.
On the road, a tree of pure white or purple flowers blooms richly and warmly, and the elegant fragrance flows in the morning breeze of early summer. And I look at each flower, it is my own once delicious light and shadow, and the gratuitous is a wave of pity and sentimentality. The moist breath in the air, blowing on the skin, has a slight coolness.
The wind lifted the green skirt, messed up a long hair, as if your fingers gently passed through the hair, and then warmly embraced me. My smile inadvertently blossomed into a blossoming charm. Look up at the sky as if to see you. There are large flowing clouds that bloom deep under the eyes, and a pool of blue ponds under your eyes, dyed into a beautiful and elegant painting.
Just think of you in this kind of scenery, along with your name.
2.
On that day, the summer flowers were brilliant. I snuggled up in front of the window, listening to the melodious wind in my heart. One chant and three sings, the strings are clear. Like a tear in an old dream in another life, the starters throbbed and rippled in circles. So I hid in your poem, stitch after stitch, and embroidered the intensity you gave me into a charming red brocade.
If life is only like the first sight, what autumn wind and sorrow paint fan. And is the encounter between you and me as a thousand times as in the words? When the wind rises again, I still remember your smiling face. Across the world, looking far away. So many minutes and seconds that can be put into poetry and lovesickness, just like this, in the opposite direction, they open into a tree of red kapok. Remember the sentence i scribbled on that day. Look closely, but it is a broken heart, spreading into a fateful obsession.
3.
At this time, just sit with you on both sides of the strait in time. Listen to you, on the other side, say it with all your affection. On what a cool summer afternoon, pick up that encounter, you say with your lips, love. At that time, I became a woman in the wind. With the gentleness of the long dance, there is the gentleness of the water.
Cut a period of June time, it's all a gentle twist under your fingertips. In the diamond flower mirror, the red makeup is first dyed, how many times has the soul dreamed and Juntong? In a past life, I should have been a lotus seed that fell between your fingers. Wading through one journey after another, just so that in this life you can rest in your arms, bloom on your eyebrows, and stick to the temperature of your texture.
Drunken laughter, love is just beginning to grow, will those lonely shadows of the past still fold their wings? Is your heart still a little lonely city? Standing in the lotus pond in Jiangnan, there are subtle things blooming like lotuses. Gently lifting the water sleeves, gathering a piece of smoke and rain to clear sorrow, and I finally can't pick up the wisps of agarwood that are scattered in the old years.
4.
Listen to the wind and flowers, and listen to the desolation of the world in your heart. Sorrow waded through the water, condensing into drops of dew on the midnight grass. The smoke waves on the other side were misty with a curtain of moonlight. Through thousands of dust, you are the wind that stranded between my eyebrows, blowing half of the fall of the British, messing with the strings of early summer.
My gaze, precipitated by June's acacia, fell on your warm palm. Honey, don't say that the world is lonely and desolate. Don't say that the old things are gentle and fragrant. Don't say like a beautiful flower, like a year of water flowing.
Only to say, you and I meet, bright and desolate, singing the sorrow shallowly. Only to say that the flowers of this season are quiet and quiet, and the depth of the thrush is shallow. Just say a song of love, lush time, and half a lifetime of you and me.
Across the journey of mountains and rivers, you are the brilliance that I can't look back on. Raising eyebrows, drunkenly dissolving Lan Zhou, he finally separated from this troubled jianghu. Perhaps all the endings, before you and I have learned to turn around gracefully, have already come to an end at the moment of encounter.
If looking at each other is an endless waiting, you are a parting that I can never forget.