Elegant and quiet, pure heart like snow, pure soul, holding a pen slowly and describing, holding a style, purple jade and gold sand pot, Zhulongjing snow bud, take a pool of Yangxian tea spring, soak Biluochun tea, watch the spring water boil, watch the fragrance of the tea Dancing, emerald green angels, fresh and pleasant, elegant down to the earth, clear springs embrace tea, tea is elegant, smell the scent, tangy, tasting tea, longjing sweet, green snail fragrance, refreshing, refreshing, soul fragrant. Listening to the bird’s voice, Yingge, reciting Tang poems and Song lyrics, Sanskrit sounds linger, nourishing the soul, understanding the deep meaning of Zen, praise and love without boundaries.
Pu Zhengyu Gongyan; Spring rain brewing tea, book fragrance brewing, sweet infusion, a poem, Xing Tang Yun, a few notes of Song Ci, shuttle time, full of poems and beautiful verses; Red paper message, Hongyan Biography, remote delivery Passionate and obsessive; Tianchi is like inkstone, the forest is like a pen, full of mountains, the earth is paper, clean and wide, green mountains and green waters, singing and swallowing birds, waving a few splashes of ink, condensing the rhyme of red and blue scrolls.
Red dust on the paddock, fireworks and fireworks, the cycle of time, a volume of Tang Feng Song Ci, half a cup of fragrant flower tea, in the season of the fireworks flying away, leisurely. Twirl a bright smile, embellish the time, embrace the heart of a meter of sunshine at the corner of time. Light dance fleeting. Quietly count the cold in the pain of loneliness , enjoy the beauty in sing and dance, wait for the flowers to bloom under the eaves in front of the court, in the quiet and elegant place, under the sky, smile and watch the clouds and clouds.
Leaning on a railing to listen to the rain, thoughts cruising in the rain, flying into butterflies. A period of light dance lingering in the rain and mist flew up and condensed into a curtain of dreams. Feeling like a lotus, let the beautiful lovesickness break through the cocoon and become a butterfly, dance lightly on the fingertips of the fleeting years, cherish a ray of thoughts, embrace the flowers into dreams, pick off the sky full of stars, and present the love and interpretation of the flower language. At the place where you stare, between the lower eyebrows, if you give a gift from your heart, there is no harm in reaching the end of the world. The longing sail, stranded in the windless sea. The sprouting heart, misty and lost in the singing of summer night. Love has been painful, the truth that the only one knows, the starting point and the ending point, always can’t escape, the dialogue in the depths of the soul.
Reading a piece of paper, the poem written for you, thinking about it, Jie Ou is inseparable and lingering. Looking at the line, the egret walking leisurely. A wisp of unending love is overflowing, and the ancient ferry and the slender bamboo flute are performing the eternal swan song. Borrow a piece of plain paper, use the fragrance of ink, use the elegance of Song poetry, to stretch the sadness between your eyebrows, and use the fragrance of flowers to make you beautiful. Holding a handful of water, cutting the wind and softly, carrying thousands of emotions, quietly in the world, calmly guarding each other. Durable fragrance, such as readiness to stay youthful, intoxicating heartstrings, lingering around the mean, carrying thoughts in Yeliangrushui Shaohua, light rain Qing Han, the wait for clear water and long days, overlooking the deep love affair.
Tonight, standing in the clouds and shadows of the Xiaguang, the long and lingering feelings are endowed with a long poetic meaning, and the misses are chanted into the poignant beauty of Song Ci, and sailing on the water. I don’t know how many lingering idiots my slender soul can carry for you. I’m afraid, waiting for a few more seasons to bloom, my pen and ink will gradually cool down. I don’t know you, will it still sound the beautiful myth that I have been sleeping for thousands of years, and play a heartbeat of dusty dust for me in another life? Willow silk is flying, and the wind is quiet and quiet. Tears filled the eyes, and the butterfly language swept the quiet night. Who is your watchman, who will understand your melancholy. If there is an afterlife, you must be a ruthless person, drink Meng Po soup, walk over Naihe Bridge, cut off the love of the ages, forget the love of thousands of years, and bury the vows on the Sanshengshi forever.
In this way, can there be no more nostalgia? Will it be possible to break my heart without a trace? Can it be ruthless and harmless? If the night is pale, Mengying leans against the flowers and looks tired. With a gentle embrace, a light sorrow and a faint sorrow, one embraces gracefully, chanting into a paper-filled style; twists the moonlight for three quarters, leading to a flower border, let the fate drift away, and the dust border squanders. Dreams across the horizon, lovesickness are all, your shadow is as light as smoke, but always in the line of sight I look into, with soft fingers and slender, passing through the willows across the bank, carrying a wisp of breeze, flying through the dust and smoke of thousands of years, lying drunk in the fragrance with you Painting the building, dreaming among the flowers…
Yemu is very thick, as dark as ink, and dreams are too thin. Who is willing to wait for whom? The length of life, the gorgeous out of chapter, who wants to stay for whom? The fireworks are unbearable to cut, and the love to cut is constant. Holding a handful of lovesick rain, folding a longing flower, drifting across the chrysanthemum stand, smashing the sway of the autumn, condensing your figure with expectation, telling the sadness of dreams and sadness, but, I don’t know how to hear me Shaoyou sigh in the red dust? Can I perceive my tired heart to grow old day and night?
Qingwu’s slender fingers crossed the oblique wind and flowing clouds, cutting a piece of plain clothes for her mood , and with light and light feelings, the text that swam into ink and wash was gently written into the fleeting year. Cut the stream of light for a night, hold a piece of affection, hold a light and pity, sway graceful thoughts, drunk dance, clear breeze and moonlight, listen to the passage of time by itself. Xian Chen looked back, watching the splendor of a firework, keeping a long stream of plain water, the dust that has passed through thousands of years, and you are dependent and warm.
Yesterday, I cut the candles and talked at night, tonight to see the end of the world, what eve tonight? For you, pick up the scenery all the way, sing for you in a low voice, the water eyes are soft, and a petal floating on the hairline, throwing the heart sound like water all the way. Reading to travel thousands of miles away, with a sigh and a pain, if you can, do you want to take over tonight’s moonlight, is it okay? Exile the obsession and expectation in your heart, to the end of the sky, the corner of the sea, no longer have love for love, and Worry about insulation?
The smoke is frivolous, the slender tassels are like silky thoughts, and the flower rain is softly indulged in the warm fragrance of butterflies. You know that across the mountains and rivers, every time a butterfly wing flicks, there will be a flower of sorrow in full bloom. The color of the water and the shadow of the clouds, I want to use the scent of the flower to wake up the clear water, leaving only the bright and reflecting all the scenery, even if it is silent, I am still happy.
The green smoke of Xiaoye rippled the fragrant breath, blurred the bleak mood, gently flicked the sorrow on the frown, crushed a strand of sorrow, scattered it into the world, singing, speechless and falling with the flowers. . How to sing a clear chant in Wanmei’s words? If the red dust can be seen through, I just want to filter out all the dust. I don’t need the flute to wrap my shoulders, and the chaotic red pave the floor for me. I would like to be a leisure flower, blooming lightly and shallowly, let the seasons change, let the tide go, Abide by the pure land of one’s soul, stay away from worldly disputes, and stay away from the complex world, decorate the clothes of dreams with that scent of fragrance.
The night is whispering, guarding a crescent moon, cutting a thin shadow, cutting a few petals of the heart, twisting a piece of water-bright plain paper, pulling a few strands of rain, hanging into a dreamy blur, dipping the night into ink, crushing the flamboyant reverie, Gather the deep thoughts from the bottom of my heart, let the past happen, and the years will pass away! Looking through the misty and rainy dreams of autumn water, who would miss love in the red dust.