May is neither early nor late, neither busy nor idle, neither cold nor hot, a month that makes people a little lazy and casual and straightforward, a month that helps spring end and give the beginning of summer, and a month in which all "beauty" happens----
Only in May can "May I love you" be translated from "Can I love you" to "In May, I love you".
I slowly spread out the notebook of the years, and fell on the fragrance of ink rhyme, just wanting to copy May and give May an affectionate hug.
Standing on the branches of time, with poetic colors, the wisps of soft light summer wind, blowing through the mountains and rivers and verdant grass, green, fat, red and thin. How much time is gradually moving away from spring, reincarnating the changes of the seasons, spring to spring and gone, old time, but also mottled the passing years.
That night, who drove 8,000 miles of clouds and moons, stepped on horseback? Walked through the bluestone alley, passed through the peach blossom spring, and accompanied me in the years of ink painting. The moonlight is soft, and I am charming, and the old oil-paper umbrella, as if it is still in my years, still holds up a round of spring in the south of the Yangtze River, and the raindrops fall on the oil-paper umbrella, moistening my deep thoughts.
From spring to the shallow summer of May, longing and hope return together. The red, pink and white of the Gesang flowers are intoxicating, and I just want to take a nap next to the flower seat as big as a moon bowl. The wind gently danced the tulle of time, and the five-colored beaded curtain rolled up a touch of May.
Open the lintel of time and walk into the colorful May color. The plum between the leaves calls for a rainy season, a drizzle. The song of the ploughing bird resounded in the wet rain, and the rain was dripping on the budding wheat field. The water waves of Yiwan Bay have already faded away from the light of May, dipped in the ink rhyme of May, and left a note of invitation to May.
I stood on the eyebrows of May, counting the reincarnation of the years, holding a pen of the years, and writing the story of May, copying the colors of May, spreading out the picture of the years, and welcoming a new round of summer......
(The picture comes from the Internet, invaded and deleted!)