Snow drifts down on earth
Snow drifted down on earth, those silver-white hair and eyes;
Look, the night is dark and dark; look, the eyebrows are bent and bent like.
Lonely people and stories are staged, and the plot is too perfunctory.
Sigh, time; no regrets, countenance.
The white hair is the end of the period, and a person is depressed.
The loneliness of one person, the attachment of two people;
But the wind and snow are too much to say I like.
The story is long, and the world is vain!
And wine, swallow a glass of the moon.
Bright and dangling, as big as the sun.
Say absurd, I live up to time; say wandering, who can hardly forget the madness?
Cup by cup of moon, swallowing the orange skylight;
Mo wandered around, the shadow was too desolate.
Whoever holds up an oil-paper umbrella wanders alone; who wears a white gauze dress and looks lonely.
2022.1.4 nights
Postscript: A lot of snow, fluttering windows, snow white branches, snow white wheat fields, snow white mountains, snow white earth.
We don't tell stories
The story we do not tell, the color of the night is sad.
A lonely wanderer, cornered and lost in a foreign land.
It doesn't hurt to say that the scenery is picturesque, and it is said that the hometown is as desolate as a mountain.
The sideburns are stained with white frost, and the white hair is cool in autumn.
Our appearance, do not change the time.
The years are not spared like frost, and the deceased are like the Yangtze River.
The road is long, and one person forgets.
The stories are not told, and the memories are recalled until dawn.
The sea of people is vast, and the sorrowful intestines can eliminate the sunset of wine,
My hometown alone, long and prosperous Yongchang?
But he wandered and wandered, and the foreign land was like a desert and desolate, and he grew up alone.
Twilight drums who knock on the skylight, the shadow is long, the road is long and desolate.
When the dust does not fall in the sun, when the night does not tangle and melancholy;
We tell the story slowly, reminiscing about the time when we laughed and shed tears.
Can't go backwards and fall in love with her.
The heroic spirit is bold and uninhibited, and the hero's blood stirs people's hearts and intestines.
And forward, all the way up the mountain and the water is long, not to be a lamb sent into the belly of the tiger.
But on the humble ground, creeping through the residue of the fruit belly to collect waste.
Do not cry out tears, do not choke on sorrow,
Stubborn and stubborn, one man is strong.
2022.1.5 morning
Postscript: Open your eyes, it is all a busy day, may the ideal is no longer far away, and may the effort be hope. (Those lonely words and sentences, accumulated for months, released?) ）
Remarks: The picture is selected from the WeChat circle of friends