Murray flying flowers thousands of degrees, who leans on the lamp! Mo Yan is bitter, empty, why should QingSi Twilight Cry? One journey and one dream, the rest of the fireflies, is the degree of painting screen Sheng. Bodhi has no tree, so why bother! It is only a line of weeping, and everything is empty, and the desire is greedy. Three thousand rings of fingers are soft, cold and snow under the river autumn. The night is desolate, and the weeping moon is hidden.
In May, the rain is lightning, the weeping willows are delicate, and the tired birds have not returned. Scrolling west window moon, ask Jun when to return? The porch door is flying, who blows the flute! The rivers and mountains are thousands of miles, and the green people are soft and weak. Hand in hand with the sunset twilight, the twilight shadow follows. Pear blossoms with rain and tears, the wind through the soft intestines waving. Half a lifetime of clouds, boiling rain folding incense cooking. When the mountain flowers are full of flowers, the word "read" has been repeated a thousand times. Mo Yan was sad, bitter and drunk, and the mountain water poured from the cup. Sigh, lonely and tasteless.
Good faint sound, the heart travels with the song, avoiding the pain of the hustle and bustle. All are like songs, who am I? The quiet are picturesque, peaceful, and have no view. Coffee is not drunk, the milk is broken, there is a sense of prickliness, and the love is not willing. Brother said that medicine is used to make water for tea, and I will follow it, but it is beneficial to listen to it. If it is the woman in the painting, she has never had a water to listen to the lotus, the desolate world, and the sky looks at the clouds. On a good rainy day, holding an umbrella and walking slowly, with the fingers touching the thin cool in the warmth, very sentimental also. If the wind blows, is it a child? Ruyan Moon Eye is me, wind kiss is Ru Fire. Quiet as a Buddha, but the heart is not, and he is sleepy and crying. So and blessed.
The good does not see, the seeer is evil, and loneliness gradually becomes accustomed. The night is also restless, dazed and faint, to the deep black melancholy, looking up for fear of tears. One person is lonely and cold, lonely with a full moon. For many days, the sky is hard. After a week of delay, the pain began to flood. Listen to the wind, still think.
Drag down three feet of azure, bind the weak water three thousand, and even gaze deeply into the species, floating seven colors. Answer me, I am not your dream haunting. Either retreat or retreat, so that the encounter of this life will be silently separated. Viruses win against each other, abuse each other, encounters are robberies, fate is also?
The thought of the back, the solemn day of pain. There are light raindrops, tears in the eyes, and there is no time to see the reincarnation as a preface. Green and green, who is half an acre? The sea that breaks the embankment, the autumn water looks at it. A vain thought, weak water without end, boiling soup night. Ten fingers clasped in the moment, a lifetime of warmth and blessings.
Once vowed, at any time scattered, everything shadow poke. Life is impermanent, the eyebrow line is long, and there is no return. A thousand sails are exhausted, and the spirit of abundance is settled. Who is my medicine, to cure me half a life of loneliness, a trace of loneliness. Where the bustling sheng song falls, half a pot of turbid wine is self-clearing. A song of chanting for a thousand years, Zen like bodhi flowers like mud. Mo is sentimental, hurting himself. Don't miss it, don't be separated. The hero tears red face tomb. Drunken dreams flow in the fireflies, and the legacy of love lies in other places. On the remnants of youth, the snow is overwhelmed, it is unforgettable, and the words can not be put down. Ru is my Red Dust Dojo, and I am Ru's ancient forgotten. Since the farewell of the king, I have been thinking about it, one line and one thought, but I have not sent it.
Lingering and forbearing, or too naïve, all the residual warmth, no longer playing temptation. Unbelief is deep, and the wild eyes groan. Seal, I don't leave a trace in the world, but why should passers-by be called opponents of each other, it is fate to guide! A lifetime of one or two, the flowers on the other side of the shore are looking for each other, a fixed contemplation at a glance, and a thousand thoughts have become the true body of the soul. Lying drunk, no longer recognizable. Do not want to taste others, dream burning pain, self-hedgehog is not near.
Three thousand winds are not impressive, and half a wisp of love is naked and traceless. Sycamore smoke and rain song thin, cold attack flying flowers sad boating. The night is thin, the hands and siblings are hot, the heart is overturning the river and the sea, and the shadow is weak. If you don't want anything, why turn it into a robbery? There are no tears, but loneliness burns and sets fires. Dreams are also wandering, no flowers bloom Buddha, and they are tortured. Whoever is said to be a fuhua has passed, I don't remember! The lock is lost, and loneliness follows me into the ink. There are scars from time to time, but also new ones. The flowers bloom silently, and the pedestrians walk. I am in old age, and everything is not born, but whenever it hurts, it is clear of smoke.
In the field of love, who can be unharmed! If tears are windows, why lock flowers? The wind and snow are impermanent, and the rainy night is not endless! The late remembrance is released, and it is still in the place of encounter! Love the letter of my life, fireworks are easy to cold. Bitter coffee without sugar, love, edge shoulders, who can be chic? Who's holding a trail of rouge!
The lover is helpless, and the acacia monologue. Sincerely, I can't cry when I say I can't cry, and I can't stand my sobbing! The eyebrow line is long, the end of the world is shoreless, and the penetration is a strange road. One play and one dream, who does not want to lose, if I don't care, the wind and grass color three thousand at will.