Sigh as beautiful as ever

The sunlight outside the window, piercing the flutter of willows, fell to the corner of the glass, folding out the folds of color. I counted every deep or shallow imprint, and in the morning wall where memory was barren, I carved the past into words, dampening the smell of the sun in my heart.

The years passed, looking at the distant mountains and thrushing near the water. Cloud sleeves soothe the wrists, and the red sun kisses the green willow. At the waist of the small bridge, the shining stars are full of blue skirts. There are three or two huts, and the dogs bark at each other. The fence is surrounded by the fragrance of flowers, and the new swallow nests are busy. A few wisps of cooking smoke rise, and good dreams are intoxicating. And you, who are as weak as smoke willows, are feminine in the pulse wave, the small river that dings. If life is only as it first saw, how good.

"Strange, you're really beautiful." ”

Mo: "It's all innate. ”

"You've been like this for a thousand years. ”

Mo: "Really?" ”

"At this moment, the beauty of the scenery, for thousands of years, is still repeated, making people addicted." ”

In these hurried years, find a good place, to place the beauty of nowhere annihilated, sing low and shallow, not afraid of cruelty, in the ethereal look of nothingness, listen to the whisper of the wind, stand on the top of the mountain, see the sunshine that floats like the years, see a touch of color in the boundless sky, drunkenly fall into the plain face of the earth without warning, and perceive those faint as the wind.

Mo: "People seem to yearn for beauty, and they seem to be dissatisfied." ”

"It's all like this, so cherish it so that the memories are worth it." ”

In the light time, let the thoughts with the ink fragrance to enjoy, calm down to drink a cup of tea, warm a dark fragrance of the years, in the calm aftertaste, in the simplicity of the past, that light as the wind of the past, is the scenery left to us by the years. Lay out a plain paper, the dappled scattered memories, carefully depicted, in one corner of the heart, properly placed. Find a place of tranquility, let the thoughts that turn a thousand times bloom into a flower in the heart, flowing in the wind!

Time, gentle and silent, the sky floated over the big white clouds, it was the shadow of the heart. The wind passes, a curtain of grass faint fragrance refreshing the spleen, look up, reach out, pick a wisp of fragrance into the ink, the brightness of spring is graceful in my words. Listen carefully, the murmur of the heart, who, in the verses of spring, write the joy of the first encounter? Who portrays the beauty of life in the picture of spring?

Mo: "It's really good to be able to meet you, otherwise, I'm still a rebellious girl who doesn't understand things." ”

"Only when I can meet you can my wandering heart belong." ”

Mo: "If it weren't for you, I would still be giggling in the downtown area, not understanding the style, and I wouldn't appreciate any poetic beauty." ”

"If it weren't for you, I would only know how to read hard, write poems with the wind, and emptyly describe a thousand years of love." ”

The sun rises little by little, and the wind does not intentionally blow, so that the trees move with the distant mountains in the silent silence of the purple gas, in a purple zeal, the mirage like a slope of red, a slope of orange, a slope of yellow, a slope of green, a slope of blue, colorful as the season of this season, very victorious. This time, in the scenery of the fourth hour, it has already reached the purple mo spring depth.

Mo: "Look at the hillside over there, it's so beautiful!" ”

"Even the illusion has appeared." ”

Mo: "What illusion, it's just the scattering of sunlight, don't you want to dream back to the Tang Dynasty again?" Ha ha! ”

"For you, I want to dream back everywhere, if it's an illusion, I'm willing to go in with you, never come out." ”

Mo: "I don't want to stay in the illusion, the world is so beautiful." ”

"The world is very beautiful, but I still hope that one day, we can dream back to the Tang Dynasty together." ”

Mo: "Can you come back when you go back?" ”

"Even if you can't come back, it's an earthly place." ”

Mo: "Then let's still stay in this earthly world enough and go back!" ”

The hardest and most pitiful heaven and moon, once like a ring, the past has become a yue. If it seems that the moon wheel is finally clean, it will not quit the ice and snow for the heat. No dust edge is easy to extinguish, the swallow is still, the soft curtain hook said. Singing the autumn grave is still sad, and the spring bush recognizes the amphibian butterfly.

At night, Que is meditating, strange is thinking. The years are just right, and the future is also very long.

Looking back on the thousand-year love affair, some night loneliness, in the ink of the word to thin a night of lights. The zen sound in my ears is lingering, and my water sleeves are dancing softly, dancing to the fullest. Dark and fragrant time, there is a heartbeat, there is waiting, there is waiting.

Everything is in the depths of the years, and the song of red dust is dancing softly. In the morning bell and twilight drum, I trekked through the mountains and waded through the water, not for the strange peach blossoms, but only for a flowering period that had been dating for a long time.

Mo likes to see flowers, every year during the flowering period, Que is looking forward to being with Mo, but the millennium reincarnation, after all, is a few times of joy and sorrow.

"Mo, you know what? Ten lifetimes of reincarnation in a thousand years, I thought that each reincarnation could meet you, and it turned out that there were only six reincarnations. Flower viewing does not meet people who understand flowers, and there is no companion to empty liao. ”

Mo: "If the heart is young, the years are not old, no matter how time flows, keep the spring blossoms in the heart, in fact, the happiness we want has always been there." If the sunset is infinitely good, why worry about the near dusk, miss the wind, we will harvest the rain; miss the summer flowers, will surely walk into the autumn leaves. ”

"After every reincarnation of disappointment, it's a good encounter." ”

Mo: "So, when we meet in the most beautiful years, isn't it heavenly affection?" ”

"So I really shouldn't think too much about it." ”

Mo: "You're not asking for trouble, you always say something to me to experience love and hate in its entirety." ”

"That's just from the text, where do I dare to let you suffer a little grievance now?" ”

Buckle a song of the old, sing the mark of yesterday. You can no longer see the footprints of the past, nor can you look at the beginning of the coming. Only the sails of memory, the numb search for the altered route, do not know how to find a place to rest. That long song of the phoenix, how to sing the beauty of the years.

The sails of the years, fading away under the gaze of memories, suddenly sounded in my ears< the melody of the > of life, arousing an inexplicable desire in my heart.

Gently open the curtains, a spring rain, drenched in the flowers of piety and longing, many fragments of memories like the fragrance of flowers watered by the rain, warming the deep dream, just like the state of mind at this moment, let the melodious flower fragrance and spring wind intoxicate me, and I do not want to wake up.

Mo: "Why did you just go?" ”

"Nothing. It was raining, and I just closed the window because I prefer to be quiet. ”

Mo: "You must have been thinking about something again, right?" ”

"I suddenly feel a little confused." ”

Mo: "Didn't Zhuge Liang say that he is not indifferent and has no clear will, and he cannot go far without tranquility." ”

Tranquility is a shallow smile, and the traces of wind and frost are engraved between the eyebrows; tranquility, is a slanting sun, reflecting the willows by the river, and the years flow quietly from here. Tranquility, not in the mountains and forests in the human world. If the heart does not ask for anything, tranquility comes. Looking down on the wind and moon, how much floating dust is cloud smoke.

"It really should be quiet." ”