The clouds are vivid and the breeze is faint. Borrow a song to dance the pine waves, listen to the wind, and chant a song of incense, light as fingertips, flooded with agarwood, unforgettable. Falling flowers and flowing water, red dust, rambling thoughts, and ququ whispering those dried stories. Looking back, empty to the distant mountains, distant water, a glass of light wine, a window of heart, a curtain of dreams, shallow drunken laughter Mingyue does not understand the style.
The years are long, the love is also leisurely, the dreams are also leisurely; the wind and rain, the gathering and dispersion, the clutch; sigh! Life is impermanent, like the wind. Last night the stars last night the wind, silent red dust, the sun and moon are only three feet in the sky. Gazing at Shan Shan, smiling at the red dust language, the past dust was difficult to harvest.
Hope and disappointment pass in time, and every inch of it passes. Silent in the desolation of time, promises are just a faint thread in the sky. In the dust, you and I are nothing more than streams and duckweeds meeting each other, meeting each other and dividing again. There are reasons to forget and reasons to stop thinking. The road of the world, winding and twisting and twisting, a journey of ups and downs in the heart is the most unforgettable. How many dreams can be realized, and how many visions can be fulfilled.
Looking at the wind, the ears are full of fresh wind, and the lonely strings in the wind are faintly heard; the reverie of the past looms. Wave your hand, pick up a piece of it, hold a wisp of thought, pick a pleasant smile, and fill the memory corridor with words. Silently read the collection of memories given by the seasons.
The flowers bloom in the dream, fragrant the course of each life; thinking about infinity, painting the traces of sorrow in the depths of the soul, no need to hide, no need to explain, let time gently cross the heart, brand a beautiful landscape trace, and become a deep and eternal memory.
The years of ququ are long and long, and there is always a kind of emotion surrounding it. Red dust is a grain of sand for you; red dust is a leaf of duckweed to me. Floating like a dream, prosperous and poignant; floating like a dream, sad and tight; floating like a dream, sincere and long.
Drunken pen and ink soothing words, gently pull the bow string to the moon song. It depends on words, and it depends on mood. Ink stains the beginning of a life. Life is a gathering as light as fireworks, and it is also a long scroll of beautiful paintings. Love is like snow dancing, shallow laughter and singing, firm and persistent through the long red dust of you and me the most beautiful answer sheet.
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