It was snowing outside the court, and the smoke was thick and thoughtful. At this moment, the wind and dust are exhausted, but it is also, a curtain of joy in the chestnut, pure and self-sustaining. The mountains and rivers are old, and if the old people bloom at that time, which petal is not in response to the season, and finally the dust is in the mud? At this time, the cold wind outside the window was blowing, and it was not the fine breeze that was fragrant at that time. Those aged and soft, have been picked up, time has been stitched by hand, thin as gossamer, cold to the end of the finger snow drifting, cold enough to be unable to read, a reading is full of pain.
In the affairs of the world, a cloud and shadow blow in the wind, and the peach in the arms is gone, and the snow has flown when the thought is gone. The sound of horses' hooves is far away, and the old appearance is disgraced. Since then, the lovesickness has been endless, and the wind and dust have been exhausted. Rolling curtains look at the moon, the wind shakes bamboo, a few doubts about the return of the deceased, the door is lightly opened, but see the river outside the door, carrying a boat of old and soft, an organ sound complains of the old good. Looking up, only the bright moon, one night is more old than the night.
In the confusion of his mind, he caged a cloud of moon shadows at that time, illuminating the way home, and you looked at the past. At this moment, the screen curtain has no wind, the water sleeves are white, Tingting, Nickname, and Hidden Floating, all the way to the fence... Why should Qiang Di complain about Yang Liu? The flowers of these tens of millions of mountains are staggering, the day and night are unknown, and they are always in the brocade. In the end, the flowers fell to the ground, and the lonely Qing was born, but because of the grace and the covenant, there was no fear of the ups and downs of the earthly world, and in the clouds of the sky, it quietly bloomed quietly and warmly.
Flyn by his distant bird, lightly latched, fluttering lupine fan flaunted, carried to the distance. Knowing that it was full of beautiful notes, he must have been collected by a note, and he had prepared a good piano, chanted poems to play the moon, rhymed and sang. Looking forward to one day, following the old traces, he carried a period of wind and dust from the past, and he was breathless and panting all the way. Even though there were drunken mountains in nature, birds singing in the mountains, winds, streams and streams, he had already smelled the distant blue streams in his ears, and she was listening to the mysterious sounds of the empty mountains and flowing water.
Even if there are carved embroidered double ducks between the fingers, the new words between the flowers are idle, and just by the world's wind blowing incense incense Yuanna, Zen lotus floating water that chapter, he has already seen the wonderful situation of the first acquaintance with her that year, she has a petal of joy in her eyes, and there are thousands of flowers in her eyes; on the top of the face is the red cloud Feixia, just when the pearl hits the flowing water, the waves of the flowers are beautifully opened; the heart is gentle and clear, and between the eyebrows is the blossoming of the flowers...
He and I, separated by thousands of mountains and rivers and mountains, in his eyes, still see me cooking smoke for him; he and I, a piece of moonlight and a day, he and I, know that I have a floating mind; I and him, looking forward to spring, looking forward to autumn and cold and cold world, he knows me, the door knocker patina, waiting for him for thousands of years.
He and I, a few petals of snow falling on the poems, idle gossip in the world, full of beautiful scenery, bright and kind and fragrant days. Between the paper, between the flowers, between the words, the lips whispered. Such as jade fingers brushing the strings, do not play themselves around the beam. The situation is wide and singing, and the lotus reflects the water, and there is no infinite interest and beauty.
At this time, it was already snowy, a furnace of old thoughts boiled open, and a few plum floating cups were boiled together. A few cases of books are quiet, turning over the old realm, incense burners, a Zen clear sound echoing. Looking at each other in the mirror, the years are already twilight, laughing and talking like snow, it is not afraid of the years, suddenly it is too late, and it is more leaky like a pond lotus. Empty long-sleeved guests do not stay, and the skirt has its own water marks.
At that time, separated from the world, I kept a side of the Xiao Ser word, half a note of lonely words, and the scenery of a garden was infinitely good. Borrowing the encounter between the wind and the flowers at that time, the heart is like a splendid embroidery, and the eyes are like a clear stream. I wash your old words in the stream with water lilies; the swirls of laughter, the splash of clouds, I guard the rutted tracks of the years in my homeland, and I keep your skinny horseshoe sounds captive. I don't see you at night, you are still my third life bright moon hanging in the air, clear and clear, Zen mind self-sustaining.
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