The wind blows through the eyebrows, and the flowers are fragrant.
Spring sells the last tenderness in the world, the paper kite is drawn on cotton paper, the willow branch writes the sweet rain, the pink rose walks on the incense every night, and the moon and the moon are red and drunk every day.
Spring is like this, as if opening many carved cages, pouring out are the classical spring of rose, emerald green, bright yellow and purple.
A curtain of breeze rolls the bright moon, and a glass of turbid wine toasts the spring. In the brightness of this road, it seems that only in one turn, you will meet the flowers of one tree after another, from the peach scorching, to the pear blossom shengxue, cherry blossom pollen, magnolia pretty...... Colorful flowers bloom endlessly.
The world is beautiful, and the mountains and rivers are ten thousand.
It's just that there are many flowers blooming, and there is the melancholy of falling flowers, when Lin Hua thanked Chunhong and Zhu Yan Cijing and Hua Ci Tree, he only felt hurried, too hurried.
You are warm, love, the most beautiful April day in the world, and a tree of flowers falling like rain, a little spring sorrow is rising. I was a passer-by in the red dust, but the shadow of the flowers entered my heart, half of it was blooming and charming, and half of it was desolate. In the bustling place, in the bustle, the flowers bloom on the branches, and when the wind passes by, when the rain falls, the path falls red all over the ground.
Spring comes to the dream, and the flowers fall like promises. Whose years are quiet in this season's flowers? Whose years are in a hurry when the flowers are desolate?
On that lazy weekend afternoon, the silk-like sunset passed through the dense vines of roses, and when the wind rose, petals fell on a scroll of Song Ci that I was flipping through. I gently put away my half-stretched waist, lest I disturb the sunset of the withering petals and vines, and silently chanted a phrase: "There is little hatred and pleasure in the floating growth." Ken Ai's daughter smiled lightly. Persuade the sun to hold wine for the king, and leave the evening light among the flowers. ”
How much spring trouble does this "red apricot book" have in his heart? In his melancholy, he also hopes that this beautiful spring will stay longer, so he is full of spring sorrow, expresses his chest, and will enter the wine, and enjoy himself, "persuade the sun to hold the wine for the king, and leave the evening light among the flowers."
I can't drink alcohol, so I will hold tea and persuade the sun, "and leave evening shine among the flowers".