【The world is flowing with the flowing water, and a dream is floating】
Author: I think it was an unexpected encounter
I think there is a beam of light, square, a cloud, scattered, a flower, full of fragrance, these things are combined, fused into the years, but the things of the world are invisible, indescribable.
Leaning on a small window, looking back at the past memories alone, I don't know that those people and things that have been tampered with by time are living in another world, that year cinnabar, I don't know whose girl's head, I have stumbled over the years, I cried red, once a few times, people who said that they would never be separated again have quietly walked into whose dreams, the green plum bamboo horses of that year, have no trace, like the falling flowers outside the window, the things that want to come to the world are so traceless.
I have also thought about leaving some things that are easy to make people nostalgic, and also grasp the spotted dove that I caught in my childhood, but I have found that they all hurried through my world with youth, prosperous three thousand, when I see the glory and failure of things, I do not lament that time is like water, flying clouds, the ripples of green water, the days are like tea, the mountain breeze is light, the flowers are wanton, maybe those who can't take away can also be as comfortable as when they are like this, in this long-distance human world, the people who can really return to the truth are those who have tasted the fireworks in the world, and the number of time is not bad. A person who is at peace with fate.
The barren spring blooming buds, the breeze blowing the wind chimes in front of the door across the street corner, the hair between your eyebrows, and stepping into the bamboo forest to find the coolness of the long-lost, starting from a fallen leaf, I am counting autumn, and when the fallen leaves are finished and the plums are in full bloom, where are you?
Therefore, I swore to the glory and drought of the four seasons, the ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers for employment, the golden book of ten thousand volumes to answer, the gift of Ruxi Mountain rain, the eaves of the birds.
We still have to walk a long way, see a lot of different landscapes, and perform different operas.
When our youth is stolen by time, who will exchange that lost years for your full head of green silk, people's happy smiles in talking to each other, will soon fade away, guarding a small window, boiling tea and tea, watching the figures of people downstairs, just like the fragments of the years flashed in front of his eyes, all said that people are old, a person sitting is suitable for memories, but why are the corners of the eyes suddenly wet?
The road that has been walked over the years, the leaves quietly cover the whole street, the snow covers the hut, and at this moment I am burning the letterhead that burns to you in the house, carrying a paper airplane with a thousand words, instead of the kite that dreams of flying, touching the clouds and falling over the valley, I want to write all this to you, until we are old, just take advantage of the wind, grab the fallen leaves in the wind, and then tell you the strings on the back of it.
Falling red is merciless, Lamei dark incense sleeves, pear blossoms with tears and rain, time is silent, if the days are still long, you can slowly tell you all this.
Only the past years, will be the color of the memory yellow, on the pale paper to write a gorgeous stroke, life can also be so simple, how many people's lives have lamented that the time is too short, has not had time to meet, has not yet waited for the lotus blossom, there is still a bowl of old wine to comfort enough wind and dust, but also need a pot of tea to taste the taste of life, too many regrets, we are missing and regretful, when those past landscapes are labeled as the past, it seems to tell us "the future is like a golden future, mountains and rivers are miles".
Old houses, the sun shines through the old tiles, the phonograph in the house is old and old, the wooden panes produce spider webs, the pear trees outside the door have not yet withered, the gate is hidden, and through the look, you can see what this place once looked like.
It's just that the world is flowing with the flowing water, and it is a dream that comes to life. Listen, the sound of the rain falling, the pear trees sprout branches again, push open the door, the fireworks outside the house can't stop squeezing in, the lights are one year old, the taste of the year is strong, in the old things are in need of companionship to be revived, things are so, things are still the same, people are also so.