"Poetry and Wine Take Advantage of the Year" | text: Aibo Qingshan
"Where spring returns, there is no way to go"
/01/
When the six flying flowers enter the house, the whispers and thoughts will enter the feast of the New Year, looking forward to the joy of meeting, and between the condensation of songyu, there is a kind of joyful intention of welcoming the vips. Yo yo deer singing, eating wild apples. I have guests, drummers and trumpeters.
Ling Pu Gaochang's pear blossoms are like white soaked moonlight, melting and releasing seems to have the spring itch of the willow pond light wind, scratching his heart, that pure white love takes advantage of the years, like a born child, full of growth power. I wanted to write poetry, but I was not allowed to drink, so I felt that I was fully touched by the meaning of the end, and I did not want the other half to be anesthetized or pretend to be reserved.
With a smile, this chaotic winter will eventually pass, it seems to have been tested by it, and the cool moisture of the snow melting the wisps of light decorates the mountains and the city. Generally, spring cold and intoxicated, but also save the heart not to argue with, just two discernment, listening and thirst, only wish the king's heart like my heart, will not live up to the love.
In the wind and rain, even if it looks so turbid and lazy, it is full of longing, and what is good about that withered and boring acceptance is better than to explore it inspiringly. Often remember the sunset of the Creek Pavilion, drunk and do not know the way back, happy to return to the boat at night, mistakenly into the depths of the lotus flower. Although there is a little misdirection, there are also a few more idle times, but there are more pleasant memories.
Floating point with the courage and perseverance of the struggle, that impact on the shore of love, even if the determination of the husband is determined to be in the world, even if they are thousands of miles apart, what can they do. The cascading shadows of the towers swirled in the clouds, covered with greenery, with a touch of sunset with sweet sorrow, irreplaceable, hazy silky dark purple with gray-blue condensation.
/02/
The path is nostalgic and clear, and a hill of loess points spring.
The remnants of the suburban mountains blow snow, and the bald water of the Ao Creek is warmed. Wen held the pulse shadow of the wall of love, with the dream of respect and so twisted, the years could not stay, and the ghost was drunk. When resigning the old and welcoming the new, the heart is open and familiar, and those immediate interests, just at that glance, feel that the drunkenness and wake-up of life are separated in an instant.
At the beginning of the new year, there is no need to worry about past encounters, but the matches of this life polish heaven, see your mouth and eyes, and wander around the romantic continent, just to hold you in your arms.
Maybe no matter how in your eyes is the same hypocrisy as a clumsy performance, when the teacher is close to the heart, it is difficult to write down the Zi wen under the ancient spring, but I dance quietly, and when I cherish it, I even feel that I sit for a long time and do not know the incense in the room, and there are butterflies flying when pushing the window.
This thing is still wandering in the door of the house, about the beauty does not want to be exchanged with free time, that round thinking and bad thinking is quite decadent, there is a smooth and strange Ling Yunzhi, Li Shuang Douxue, but also has a few branches of plums in the corner, Ling Han alone opened the lonely and elegant.
Where the spring returns, there is no way to go, if anyone knows where the spring is going, call it back to live with. Nearly confused years, I do not feel aware of the vicissitudes and cruelty of the world, but feel that above this calm family affection is quite silent poetry and wine, I am drunk and suddenly awakened. Soft and gentle, Jia Shi Lihui calmly remembered the long-ago poetry ballad - dead and alive Qikuo, and Zi Cheng said, holding the hand of the son, and the son with the old age.
Grateful for the picturesque years of love, I think I will still be a bee, lingering in the flowers and sipping jelly, and have nothing to do with butterflies with false appearances. Or it's purely like being a sleeping tree on the edge of a pond, waiting for the encounter without saying a word, watching the autumn rain of hibiscus. What is the geometry of human poetry? The light rain is new, and the Tian family is cultivating here. Because of the company of wine, it is easier and more easy to be satisfied and humble, because of the gift of poetry, so the more I feel the nobility of this soul, even if I am busy and busy, I can feel the qingqu Gaojin, Zen Hua Ai Mao, which is dwarfed to meet the pestle standing, as if there are beautiful people in the north, unique and independent.
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author
Pen name: Aibo Qingshan, no matter how hard and tired life is, it is also worth us to write and sing, and the creation comes from thinking, only those who continue to think will rub out the spark and inspiration of creation.
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