Author: Aoyama
The wind blows in front of the window, blows the fragrance of flowers, in this human fireworks, never follow the waves, just live in their own way, go with the heart, quietly put the joys and sorrows of life in the depths of the heart.
Caption——
【April Streamer, Warm Pulse】
Under the cherry blossom trees, the green lawn is paved with petals on the ground, like snow, like Kasumi, like countless stars.
There are still flowers burning on the trees. As it burned, the flower cracked. One petal, another petal, drifting to the ground.
No wind, no rain. About the flowers are old. Fall vertically. Not far. They seem to be negotiated, you fall, I fall. Land in the same place, hold hands, hug each other, and then, together, walk to the end of life.
In April, time is not old, dreams are also quiet, with a plain heart, content with red dust, the light and shadow of life.
The wind blows in front of the window, blows the fragrance of flowers, in this human fireworks, never follow the waves, just live in their own way, go with the heart, quietly put the joys and sorrows of life in the depths of the heart.
Sitting in this deep spring, reading the landscape, reading the scenery, reading life, calm and calm, but also reading their own affection and heart.
On the picture scroll of the years, the feelings of susu are used as landscape letterheads, hanging on the branches of the years, and when the spring blows, it is like a falling flower going far away with the flowing water.
Time is light, when the wind sways a tree of peach blossoms, the flowers whisper, you listen, understand, is the most beautiful warm pulse in the flow of years.
【Falling flowers light rain, return to the evening wind】
At dusk, I saw falling flowers.
In the thin darkness, the winding path is filled with a wet floral fragrance, and it is also wrapped in a faint uneasiness. The delicate petals are raised, spread on the ground, floating in the air, and the appearance of snow dancing. Du Mushiyun: "Flying far away in the blue sky, a tree of pear blossoms falling in the evening wind." Once proud of the splendid branches, a rain, immediately dappled. Calmness comes from helplessness, poignancy but inevitable.
At that moment, the passionate spring seemed strange. In such a season, the brain inexplicably flashed a trace of late autumn sadness. Isn't it? What if it wasn't the pink petals that fluttered but the scorched leaves?
Pink peach blossoms thanked, a tree turquoise; snow white pear blossoms fell, a tree turquoise... Soon the honey-scented jujube flowers bloomed, and clusters of sweet and tender white locust flowers opened. They will also be like peach pears, quietly rising, quietly fading, leaving a tree of turquoise.
Life is busy, through thousands of mountains and rivers, it is not easy to go all the way, release the wind and dust of the next body, only be a simple and pure self, with a pure heart, be a stranger, every step is a journey, every step is a return.
In the complicated world, the most beautiful scenery has always been a pleasant encounter, and the best arrangement in the world has always been a Zen heart between clouds and waters, and a poetic taste.
The most beautiful picture of life is to be thrilled, to push the window to see joy, to blossom and blossom, all the beauty, up and down in a thought.
【Simple heart, bright to the light】
The four seasons are reincarnated, the seasons come and go, the red dust comes and goes in a dream, and when you wake up, you are already a dream person.
The seasons change, layer by layer, winter to spring, flowers blossom and fall, like a dream awakening, the hot summer is about to appear gorgeously.
And although you can't be as hot and cold as the seasons, and become colder in winter, you must let your expectations offset the regrets in life, in the red dust, anything, anyone can meet, don't let them spoil your expectations.
Just as Spring knows that it is decided to leave the scene, it will not disrupt the opening of summer because of the kindness of Spring.
A little stranded and helpless, has landed on my gray hair, the vicissitudes of time, every life should fade.
The world is vast, leaning over, picking up those scattered petals in the depths of time, but can't pick up the loneliness and joy of this road, and can only banish those gentle words in the faint flow of years.
But it can only be faced with a pure heart in the imperfection of life and in the inevitable regrets
Those beautiful or regretful in life are always like the spring breeze of falling flowers, through the fence of the seasons, again and again, in the dreams of life. In the scenery of life, suddenly near, and suddenly far, people sigh.
【Time to cook rain, years to sew flowers】
Spring time boils rain, years sew flowers. Leaning alone in the cold window, lonely lights in the middle of the night, listening to the wind outside the window, carrying the good news of spring.
Spring is late, and the wood is shining. The white poetry in the verses breaks free from the shackles of winter, walks through the rain and snow, and comes with money, and only that piece of scorching brilliance is already beautiful enough to suffocate the heavens and the earth.
The window sill sprinkles time and shade, the light veil chases the dream of spring and autumn, the cedar outside the window is still raised, sitting on the wind and dust of the four seasons, brewing a pot of tea, sipping a touch of incense, pen ploughing the depths of the years, carrying an indifference, quietly appreciating the night, tasting the years, lyrical life.
These days, it's a little chilly. It seems to be cold in spring, occasionally dripping a few drops of cold rain, as if everything left over from winter is still struggling in early spring, trying to flow with the frequency of spring, and gentle, but also strong, thick with the texture of the season.
In fact, I don't want to write that the epidemic is still the same. But it can't be bypassed, raging for three years, whether it is inside or outside, too many influences, economy, culture, concepts... Perhaps, there is also a deeper engraving of the social aspect, which has led to too much thinking about institutions, values, and ideologies
Time always passes quietly, making people unconscious. Suddenly, the picturesque April is about to end, and the arrival of the poetic May means that the past months are frozen in the rings of the years like old photographs.
Time boils rain, years sew flowers. In time, we are all passers-by, using the plain brush of the heart, lightly depicting the sweet fragrance of the flowing years, and simple encounters, all of which are clear proverbs. Because, every time has an exclusive memory of each time. Therefore, in the light clouds and breeze, let us toast the past with a glass of wine, and then, write a poem to the former encounters to put the hopeful morning light and the sunset into the bits and pieces of time. Those who have passed will eventually become a joy in the branches of the years.
Time boils rain, years sew flowers. Many times, we always blame the lack of frankness in time, and sneak away behind our backs, but we never want to stop the hurried pace and let our wandering hearts come to a peaceful practice.
In fact, this world is not a vain, this earthly world has never been desolate, but our hearts have been wandering, never seriously appreciated the transformation of these four seasons; you know, strange flowers blooming, moon under the piano, spring, summer, autumn and winter, the four seasons of reincarnation, these are the human landscapes that nature has given us.
Along the way, there has never been less hardship, cautious days, it seems that there are no waves in the ancient well, in fact, there are too many unspeakable dark wounds, too many unknown desolation, and too many dilemmas. But who can carry it for you? In the end, you have to slowly survive, slowly stand up, and even pretend to be strong.
In this vast world, everyone is their best author, not only to know what they want, but also to clearly know what they should give up, sink their hearts, leave a faint ink fragrance in time, and sing softly in the corridor of years.
Every day, live as you want, release enthusiasm in busyness, enjoy loneliness when quiet, listen to monsoon chanting, see the falling ink, cross the long river of history, cross the corridor of years, and leave a memorable memory and unforgettable past in the flow of time.
Those who really have temperature know how to keep a distance from the world, love deeply, ask for something, but have no desire, so that there will be a quiet perch, and it is precisely because of this just temperature that we will live happily and peacefully.
Yang Dai said: "There is no innocent happiness in the human world, happiness is always accompanied by chagrin and worry, and there is no eternity in the human world." "But what makes life fragrant for a long time is not just the fragrance of flowers and the scenery along the way, but the ability of your heart to perceive the beauty of the small and ordinary."
You know, outside the bustle is life, what can really stay in the bottom of the heart is the wind and smoke after the complicated and unhurried; the long road of life, reading the vast sea of books, let the time boil rain, thick and light; in the vast sea of people, through the crowded crowds, with the years to sew flowers, the future can be expected!