In the autumn season, the moon and night are gentle, light and clear, sprinkled with frost, and the moon is like water and clear light. Autumn nights are long, the moonlight illuminates my sleepless nights, such a moonlit night, there is always a faint nostalgia.
The night of the moon, like a gentle and gentle Song of Fan Wan ling, with the breeze spreading, drifting away, like a dream in the lotus pond moonlight. The prosperity of the scattered land, the hands poured out the face, stained the years.
In the cooling season of autumn, there will always be a hint of sadness and a little bit of loss in the heart. The lights of the Red Chamber went out, the east fence wine was cold, and who read the west wind was cool alone. And marry this plain language to the autumn wind. When the sycamore is gone, who can hide this wisp of autumn color in their hearts?
Flowing like water, pour a touch of acacia. The sadness of that season, the fallen leaves, is it still the same? Written in light ink, downplaying the face, perhaps, just yellowed memories, zero in the dream.
The lights fall into the city, the moon is like water, strolling on the winding path, as if you have reached the lotus pond that your heart yearns for, the lotus out of the mud is not stained, and the flowers are clear and drunk in the pond.
Under the moonlight, the lotus lotus is like a dream, the dream is like a lotus lotus, and you are deeply rooted in the lotus pond like a dream. Looking at the water and clouds, a flood of autumn water, is the tears I think of you, the leaves are stacked into autumn rhymes, lingering for a season of resentment.
There is always a windy morning, there is always a dusk of falling flowers. Years are like songs, life is impermanent, wind and snow, fireworks are a dream. Walking in the red dust of Quemo, shaking off the dust, shaking the spirit, and setting out for the light. The fallen leaves know the autumn cool, and the bright moon shines on the original heart.
Walking through the four seasons of life, I learned to conform and appreciate. Autumn rain adds coolness and wets memories. Time passed slowly. Those memorable fragments are also like freshwater smoke, blurred.
Spring has a hundred flowers, autumn has a moon, summer has a cool breeze and winter has snow. If there is no idleness to worry about, it is a good time on earth.
In fact, the most beautiful thing in the world is the flow of the four seasons, "spring wind peach and plum blossoms, autumn rain when the leaves of the sycamore fall." "And let me enjoy the beauty of the autumn chrysanthemums all the way, the falling leaves dancing, and the autumn moon is hazy."
In fact, every season, every life, has its own unique scenery and beauty. In the fickle life, our hearts must have the posture of being at ease with the encounter, more understanding, less confusion, and let nature take its course.
Things are complicated, but simple. The journey of life, people on the journey, why not put down the baggage, light on the road. When people live, there are pursuits, there are losses, there are gains, thinking that the more they have, the happier they are, but after getting it, they find that their mood has changed, their mood has also changed, they are bored and confused, and they are unhappy.
Life will always have a little bit of regret, perhaps it is precisely because of these imperfections that people can be spurred to go further, so that life is full of dreams and yearning, and the pursuit of a better life is perfect.