My heart is as pure as snow, and I slowly write the words of Zhengyu Gong; the fragrance of books makes wine, and the pure poems are sprinkled; Yun Danqing picture scroll.

Fireworks pass by,

In the loneliness and pain, silently count the cold, quietly appreciate the youth in the light singing and dancing,

Waiting for the flowers to bloom and fall under the eaves in front of the court, Sit under the sky and watch the clouds roll and relax.

Leaning on the railing and listening to the rain, my thoughts are swimming in the rain, flying like butterflies.

Take a light dance surrounded by rain and mist, and condense it into a curtain of dreams.

With feelings like lotus, the beautiful lovesickness breaks out of the cocoon and turns into a butterfly,

Dancing lightly on the fingertips of the passing years, carrying a wisp of longing, twisting flowers into dreams,

Pick the stars from the sky and give them to them with love and love. Where the eyes are gazing, between the lowered eyebrows, if a gift is given sincerely, there is no harm in being so close to each other.

The sail of longing is stranded on the windless sea. The budding heart is misty and lost in the singing of the summer night.

Only through love and pain can we know the truth and falsehood.

The starting point and the end point can never escape, a dialogue deep in the soul. Read a piece of paper,

The poems written for you, thinking about the inseparable lingering love. Looking across the line,

the egrets are walking leisurely. Overflowing with a ray of unfinished love,

The ancient ferry and the slender bamboo flute performed the eternal swan song of the world.

Borrow a piece of plain paper, use the fragrance of ink as the lyrics, and use the elegance of Song Dynasty lyrics to relieve the sorrow between your brows, and use the fragrance of flowers to diversify the charm of your world.

Holding a handful of water, wearing a gentle breeze, carrying thousands of emotions, quietly and quietly in the world,

staying together indifferently. The long-lasting fragrance, as prepared as autumn water, is intoxicating.

The lingering lingering around the fingers, carrying longing, waits quietly in the cool and cold night,

the light rain. The clear water and long sky, looking at the wind and moon in the distance...

●Tonight, I stand in the shadow of the clouds.

Translate the deep and lingering feelings into long and leisurely poetry,

Change the longings into the graceful poignancy in Song poetry,

Go boating on the water. I don’t know how much lingering love my thin soul can carry for you.

I’m afraid

if I wait a few more seasons for the flowers to bloom and fall,

my writing will gradually cool down.

I don’t know about you,

will you still touch my beautiful myth that has been sleeping for thousands of years,

will you play for me a heartbeat that cleanses away all the dust in the next life?

The willow silk is flying, and the tranquility of the wind is misty.

With tears in my eyes, the butterfly language swept the quiet night.

Who is your watcher, who will understand your melancholy.

If there is an afterlife, I must be a loveless person.

Drink Mengpo soup and walk across the Naihe Bridge.

Cut off the eternal love and forget the thousand years. The love of love

buries the vows on the Sansheng Stone forever.

In this way,

will we no longer have any nostalgia?

Is this possible to break the heart without leaving a trace? Is it possible to be ruthless and harmless?

The night is dark, and the shadows of dreams are leaning against the flowers to soothe their tiredness.

A lingering tenderness, a lightness of sorrow, a gentleness,

singing it into a paper full of style; twisting three-thirds of the moonlight, turning it into a flower edge,

p>

If you let your destiny wander, your worldly fate will be wasted. Dreaming across the world, I miss you so much,

Your shadow is as light as mist, but it is always in my sight from afar.

With soft fingers, I cross the willows on the other side, carrying a wisp The breeze,

flying through the dust and smoke of thousands of years, lying drunk with you in the Xiangrao Painting Building, among the flowers of dreams...

●The night is very thick, the dream is too thin, who is willing to do it for whom? Waiting?

Life is long and gorgeous, who is willing to stay for whom?

Fireworks cannot be cut, and love cannot be cut.

Grab a handful of the rain of lovesickness,

Fold a longing flower, and float it leisurely across the chrysanthemum stage,

Crush the ripples of autumn, condense your figure with expectation,

The sorrowful sobs that tell the story of broken dreams,

But,

I wonder if you can hear my faint sigh in the world of mortals?

Can you feel my tired heart getting older day by day?

●Dance your slender fingers lightly,

Through the slanting wind and flowing clouds, cut a plain dress for your mood, use pure and light emotions,

Swim into The ink words gently write the passage of time.

Cut a night of flowing light, hold on to a deep feeling, hold on to a light pity,

Swaying and graceful thoughts drunkenly dance in the breeze and bright moon,

Listen quietly Time passes by itself.

Xian Chen looks back at the splendor of a firework,

Staying for a long period of plainness, passing through the dust of thousands of years, relying on you to keep each other warm.

●Yesterday we cut candles and talked at night, but tonight we can see the end of the world,

What night is it tonight? For you, I pick up the scenery along the way,

I sing softly for you, my watery eyes are lightly condensed,

Pick up a petal floating in the hairline, and scatter my heartbeat like water all the way.

Thousands of miles away, a sigh and a pain,

If I could monopolize the moonlight tonight, would I be able to banish the obsessions and expectations in my heart?

To the end of the sky and the corner of the sea, will we no longer be able to miss lovesickness and be insulated from worries?

●The smoke is frivolous, the slender tassels are dancing like silk thoughts, and the gentle rain of flowers is intoxicated with the warm fragrance of butterflies.

Did you know that across the mountains and rivers,

Every time the butterfly wings flutter, a petal of sadness will bloom.

The clouds and shadows in the water,

I wish I could warm up the clear water with the fragrance of flowers,

Only the brightness is left to dye all the scenery, even in silence , still happy.

●The blue smoke of the dawn night,

ripples the fragrant breath, blurs the desolate mood, and removes the worries on the brows,

Bounce down gently,

crushed a wisp of sadness, and sing a song from the end of the world,

speechless as the flowers fall. How to sing a cappella in beautiful words about a romance? < /p>

Bloom gently and shallowly, let the seasons change, let the tides come and go,

abide by the pure land of one's soul, stay away from worldly disputes,

stay away from the complicated world In this world, decorate the clothes of dreams with that fragrant fragrance.

●The night whispers, watch the crescent moon, cut out a thin silhouette, cut out a few pieces of mood,

Pick up a piece of water-glossy plain paper, pull a few strands of rain silk, and hang it into The blur of dreams, dipped in night as ink,

crushes the fleeting reverie, collects the deep longing in the heart, and lets the past fade away, and the passing years are stained with fragments!

●Dreams fall into the world of mortals, singing softly, spreading ink eloquently,

Whose years are pale and whose life is ridiculous,

Crying Whose tears have been shed, who is playing the piano, listening to the pity of the falling flowers, and listening to the tranquility of the blooming flowers, in exchange for the sorrow of that season...

●Moonlight The flow is flowing, caressing the shy face, the wind is carrying whispers from afar,

The vast sea cannot be crossed with a reed, but words are used day and night to make pulp,

to brighten thoughts and burn them out The heart of the watcher is fragrant. Sitting quietly in the arms of the night,

collecting wisps of moonlight, staring at the endless water, the other side that cannot be crossed,

scrambling on a piece of plain paper, letting the messy words There is sadness in his eyes.

●The night is quiet, my thoughts are swaying like flowers, and the mist is light and cold.

My body and mind are filled with thousands of tears, my eyes are full of sadness, and the clouds are deep and indistinct.

Don’t leave now without talking about your lingering regrets or expressing your sorrow!

●The night breeze caresses the window and the pillow is cold, and I am always used to stopping in the words,

Watching the flowers blooming and falling, and the clouds rolling and relaxing. No matter how the seasons change,

What remains unchanged is the persistence held in the palm of your hand.

Life,

Even if it is not complete, it is still a kind of incomplete beauty.

Even if it is sad, it is also a kind of happy pain.

●Embracing the stranded moonlight, murmuring alone, when the faint fragrance floats,

Bury the melancholy under the fragrance of flowers, and pick up the lingering fragrance of fallen flowers,

The gentle confession at the fingertips, the lingering voice of the heart, entangled in the sleepless moonlit night, slender into long poems, with a wisp of lonely fragrance, left deep in the world of mortals.

A bit of leisure, listening to the rain knocking on the window sill, watching the flowers bloom silently,

The butterflies dance silently, my mind is as light as smoke,

I just want to hold a hand Use the fragmented time to use a piece of ink to describe a few gorgeous thoughts,

in the ups and downs of Tang poetry and Song lyrics, drink and sing this beautiful season...

Looking at the moon by the window, listening to the gentle breeze, listening to the drifting clouds and moon, and the whisper of flowers, my heart is as delicate as silk.

Guarding a piece of poetry and a faint fragrance, I can wrap up my thoughts. Bun, colorful clouds arranged into flowers,

A wisp of thoughts lingering on the fingertips, endless tenderness, endless longings,

Can I turn that little leaf into a small boat from now on? It carries spring but not sorrow.

The drizzle of smoke, the wind holding the fragrance of the dust, brings a rain of flowers to meet the budding spring,

Dance lightly in the beauty of spring, with a graceful heart. A touch of tenderness spreads into the fragrance and fills the four seasons.

I just want to hold on to the brightness and sadness of the years, smile lightly, walk through the world of mortals, and look at the sky indifferently.

The light is like water, which cannot be washed away, the fragrance is like snow, the evening wind is like scissors,

the scissors are endless, thousands of soft silks, the soft spring breeze,

With the light fragrance of flowers, accompanied by the clear brilliance of the moonlight, the dust and smoke fall, sinking into the night.

It is covered with incense paper, like fireworks scattered, dancing lightly in dreams, turning the sad and beautiful feelings into a touch Bright red.

After a night of mist and rain, the ground was covered with red. Once the branches were still standing beautifully, but now the flowers have fallen and become injured.

Even if the flowers wither and there are still flowers blooming, I still pity those flowers. The desolation and helplessness of withered petals!

Faint thoughts, perched like butterflies, with the fragrance of flowers on one shoulder, dyed with a little ink,

Permeated in the softest corner of my heart, the vast world of mortals, who painted the ground into a prison,

p>

There is no way out of the world. Looking back at that dimly lit place, some people will miss it and forget to return it.

Whose feelings can remain unchanged amidst the changes of time?

I am at the end of the world, my heart is close at hand, lingering on a memory, a touch of tenderness,

Waiting in a piece of text, quietly savoring your inner words,

Give you a smile, and let the dream that once drunken your heart condense into the fragrance of a tree in front of the window...

The wind is lingering, the stars are tired and silent, the lonely moon illuminates the clear shadow, and the gentle breeze intoxicates people. ,

Watch the silence of the night, pick up a wisp of the coldness of the moon,

accompanied by a lingering breeze, soothe a dream in the heart...

It is drizzling, the mist is like a gauze, the willows contain clear dew, and I smell the fragrant flowers falling.

Looking at the shadows of street lamps and stones, watching the butterflies dancing among the flowers, looking at the bright red places,

My soul is palpitating. The movement fills my thoughts, I am intoxicated with the charm of spring, and the lines of poetry are beautiful...

Leaning against the small window, looking at the east fence chrysanthemums from a distance, the wind and rain lock the cold, the flying flowers fall red and thin,

The clouds around my fingers are extinguished, my love is gone, my dreams are gone, I sigh at life, I have been separated and separated several times, who can understand such deep thoughts?

The drizzle listens to the ancient rhymes, the cold wind adds to the loneliness, looking at the clouds and the moon in the distance, lingering in deep thoughts,

The fragrant ink is painted on plain paper, it is difficult to express my feelings when writing, the cold moon is cold,

The night wind whistles, the cold moon is like weeping, full of deep thoughts,

The sky is as silent as smoke, the heart has nothing to rely on, and the dream has nothing to send,

I have loved I miss you now, but I am still deeply in love and still have a bond, so sad!

The cold wind is luxuriant, the willows are growing green, and the orioles are flying without a trace.

They gather together and disperse.

My heart is as sad as cold smoke. ,

The lingering shadows are cold, the fallen shadows are painful, watching from this shore, the lovesickness is like snow...

The catkins are flying, the butterflies are gone, the flowers are broken, the fallen flowers are sleepless, and they are tossing and turning in dreams,

The heart is still the same, the dream is still the same, but the fate is shallow, the world is so close, deep in the world of mortals, forgetting each other among the water and clouds!

Autumn rain is falling, hazy, leaning alone on the window sill, feeling melancholy, holding a sleeve of autumn sorrow,

Let a sigh in the dust condense into the melancholy of longing, fluttering in the wind !

In the wind, flowers, snow and moon, I am drunk and crazy, but I still pity the dream of a pillow,

Don’t cry because of my infatuation, my resentment will never be pity, a little tenderness, it is difficult to understand the meaning of lovesickness,

My heart is still there, my dream is still there, I am speechless and my heart is broken, but we will never see each other again.

Leaning alone by the window and staring at the moon, the willow shadows are slender, and there is a trace of sadness in the autumn wind.

The silent sadness is entangled in my heart, and the constant sorrow of separation is about to give up, but I can’t stop. I stay here alone. Late autumn when the leaves are falling!

I can’t find the intersection where I once was. The cold autumn wind blows through my heart. Everything seems to be drifting away.

The constant sorrow of separation is hard to give up. I stay alone. This is the late autumn when the leaves are falling!

My heart is like a dream, and when I wake up from the dream, there will be nothing left. Why should I worry about it anymore in this life? The fate is scattered.

Turn around gently, keep the indifference alone, and no longer be stained by dust!

Like flowers, they are beautiful when they bloom, but hurt when they go away, and they are hard to stay after waking up from a dream! However,

The past and the past are all elusive, and love has been covered in dust! The fragrance of fallen flowers remains the same on the empty pillow...

The beauty has a dream, it comes and goes in a hurry, the prosperity is gone, everything turns into mist and rain, with the flowers fading and the moon bending,

The frost and cold dew are heavy , so close to the end of the world,

I am as lonely as smoke, and you sit alone like a lotus.

How much love can last forever in this world, and how many feelings can last forever?

How many lovers cannot enter each other's life, and can only meet in the next life.

The heart is like stagnant water. What joy is there in life, and what about death. The world in the heart is cold.

I wish I could have a glass of water that forgets my feelings, and can convey my thoughts and heartache together. Give up.

Visiting Yaoxuan every year on Chinese Valentine's Day, who said there are tears in autumn? Since the world is one year old, why not there is only dusk in the sky. How much joy and separation are combined in this night every year.

So many past events, bit by bit, have become empty, inextricably linked, turning into endless pain in the heart.

In dreams and out of dreams, gentle laughter lingers, and the alliance is still there. The lonely shadow is left wandering alone.

A leaf of lovesickness conveys old sorrows,

How long will Yiyi’s dream break?

The falling flowers drift silently,

The drizzle of rain The willows are brushed,

The sycamore trees fall into autumn,

This feeling is tied to the orchid boat.

A stroke of sadness, shaking off a paper full of graceful words,

A sigh, repeating an old tune. Who is the sentiment of nostalgia,

Condensed at the tip of the eyebrows, any gentle and soft lovesickness,

Thin away the fragrance pillow that once raised the case to the level of the eyebrows, the love is strong?

Who, in the misty rain, carrying the meandering verses and the fragrance of fallen flowers, picked up the tenderness between the lines bit by bit? In the forgotten eternal sky, who is wandering in the dawn wind and the waning moon, singing sour a cappella songs for you?

After all these years, who is still in the water, gently breaking a leaf of vanilla?

When you take a photo by the water, who gives your emotions to the flowing water, and the mood that floats in the air?

Who is a broken heart leaning against in the smoke of willows? Who should I talk to in front of the flowers under the moonlight?

For whom do you compose heartfelt songs and express your true feelings? Across the hazy mist of the river, I stood looking at my memory from afar,

Let time erode the remaining dreams of thousands of years, but I just want to cross the distance of time and space,

Yu Heng In the ancient Tang poetry and Song lyrics, come and sing for you!

Leaning on the railing and leaning against the window, sending my thoughts and thoughts from afar, dreaming back at midnight,

Whose beautiful face is empty and thin, lovesickness cannot express the sorrow of separation.

Jianjia Cangcang, who is waiting on the side of the water and looking up to the horizon. Who disturbs a pool of spring water deep in the world of mortals, and makes the world drunk? Smiling and looking forward, who picked a piece of red maple on the lonely shore and carved the motto of lovesickness.

Under Chonghua, I dance with you in brocade and neon clothes, showing off the elegance of my whole life, blowing away the dust and sand all over my body. In front of the broken bridge,

The beauty and makeup will keep you blooming for a lifetime, and the youth will flow down the world! Smiling and looking forward,

Who picked a piece of red maple on the lonely shore and carved the motto of lovesickness. Under Chonghua,

I dance with you in brocade and neon clothes, showing off the elegance of my whole life, blowing away the dust and sand all over my body. In front of the broken bridge,

The beauty and makeup will keep you blooming for a lifetime, and the youth will flow down the world!

As the mood of autumn fades, I stand alone among the flowers and stare at the soft petals all over the sky.

They fall one after another, shaking off the fragrance all the way.

Condensed into the leaves of autumn. Feeling eyebrows. In the rain of falling petals,

the passing light and shadow dance with indescribable sentimentality, penetrating through the eternal growth rings,

like a butterfly dancing with its wings, dancing gracefully into a dream.

At this moment,

I just want to sleep with the falling flowers, and travel through thousands of years with the falling flowers.

At the vast ferry, I will join hands with you in the ups and downs of the rain. In this world, the poetry of the passing years is lush and green.

The fallen flowers are colorful, and together with the moon's thoughts, they turn and fall into graves, and the thoughts are lingering.

It is as soft and beautiful as the moonlight falling on the treetops. The affection is long-lasting, as timeless and profound as the longing of a poem.

Open the door of your soul and look through the autumn water with your eyes. Carrying a wisp of breeze,

passed over the lake, causing ripples; playing a Xiao

sound, like weeping and complaining, with a long and flowing rhyme. Whose clothes have been wetted by the night, whose thoughts have been blown away by the wind, and whose hearts will the trickling whispers flow to?

The bright red of the years embellishes the spring and autumn of the whole life;

The stream of light from the fireworks shatters the youth of the moment.

In the misty rain and the mortal world, who disturbed the old dreams of youth; when the dust has settled, who expressed the feelings of parting. Dance in a red dress with sleeves fluttering, and play a sad red building.

Listen,

The sound of the flute is long and distant, but it is a pity that I am so sad.

Look,

The water is flowing nearby, but it is a pity that I am far away. Bitter as a dream,

Who has seen through the world of mortals, who has made words shallow, and who can extinguish the fireworks in this world?

In the depths of the world of mortals, who is slowly twisting the wisp of sadness?

Who is weeping quietly?

For whom are these poignant words crooning?

For whom are these sad elegy songs affectionately sung?

Who fell into the mortal world and sang quietly in the Yaochi? Looking across the curtain,

whose heart is being hurt by the lightly furrowed brows? Whose life has been messed up? The west wind blows behind the curtain,

People are thinner than yellow flowers, and their slender fingers curl,

What cannot be brushed away is too much sorrow, and endless tears of lovesickness fall!

Looking back at the beautiful city, my heart is like mist, when the wind blows,

The ground is mottled with lovesickness, drunk on the euphemism of words,

Looking forward, < /p>

Meet you in the deepest world of mortals,

*** happy tune. The road is long and love is far away.

How many loves are entangled in the world?

Sincere intentions, endless love,

How many words can be turned into poems when you love deeply?

In the depths of Luohong, there are thousands of emotions, how much nostalgia? So close to the end of the world,

it is always difficult to cross; the lingering feelings are difficult to cut off.

My feelings for the snow, moon, wind and flowers, lingering in the sky, melancholy alone!

The continuous autumn rain affects a lot of loneliness and a little longing.

I like Qiu Yu, I am in love with her elegance and purity, and I am obsessed with her romance and lingering.

The rustling leaves and autumn rain are nostalgia, looking back, the affectionate expression after a glorious life,

a statement of mood after the reincarnation of life.

Don’t say that she passed by so sadly.

In the rain and smoke, there were so many luxuriant grasses,

The flowers were enchanting, and there were so many morning bells and evening drums. , Time flies.

I have no sleep at night, writing becomes my longing, dreams come and go, I want to complain but have no words.

Who meets whom in the world of mortals? Dependent origins and perished,

Cold butterfly dream; Destinations gather and dissipate, let them drift away. Don't recall, love means sorrow.

I dreamed of a thin shadow in the world of mortals, and heard the rain fall and the flowers flow several times.

The lingering feelings are lingering, the smoke of rubbing the seal is left, and the dream of flowers is hard to stay.

The lone shadow crescent moon is leaning on the west building, the cold wind dews the new sorrow.

A dream of prosperity disappears, a song of drunkenness among flowers, a tear of beauty,

One thought of lovesickness. Just lock the lovesickness in your dream and let the tears flow!

After years of dreams, they slip away gently,

Like the wind passing by silently, like water without a trace,

Like a flower story, tea leaves bloom and fall into mud, Melancholy ripples slightly,

overflowing thousands of rivers and mountains. The wind blows through the treetops, like the lingering sorrow of torn ears and temples;

Looking at the moon and concentrating on words, it is like the vague murmur in a dream.

Light a solitary lamp, unfold a plain piece of paper, roll up your sleeves and wave ink,

The pen tip stained with sadness is filled with broken thoughts.

The tears in my eyes were drooping, and my feelings were still throbbing, shaking my mottled memories.

A song that makes you pregnant, a dream that breaks your heart. On the water side, who still looks back?

I still remember the past, transformed into a pair of old figures.

Since I am drifting, who cares about the cool west wind? When the prosperity comes to an end and tears fall like rain, who will accompany you to the end of the world?

The fine dust is stained with ink, and the pen is drawn to depict the passing years. Where you gaze, the mountains and fields are gorgeous.

At the entrance of Wuyi Lane, in front of Yanxie Hall. The flowers are blooming late, and the sound of the piano is lingering. Hearing the broken strings and watching the vicissitudes of life.

Leaning on the railing in the breeze, thoughts spread like water; in front of the independent window, watching the sunset bid farewell to the day.

Half a cup of pure joy, one stroke of ink and the sound of the piano and harp, three lives of Zhu Gesuo.

The boat is empty and dusty, boiling characters to commemorate the famine years.

The Ruoye River is as clear as promised. White gauze clothes, a curtain of mist and rain.

A ripple on the water surface scares away the fish under the lotus leaves.

Listen to a reed flute on the bank of the willow bank. In three years and three months, lotus flowers bloomed for three seasons, and they danced and sang a clear song under the moonlight. The silver bell is tied to a beautiful woman with a jade-like face, and she is frail and arouses pity.

Who is counting whose footprints in the wind? Who looks at the world indifferently in the rain?

Who waved their sleeves and left but couldn't bear to say goodbye? It was silent under the sun,

Looking back, I saw your smile like glass. The moon sets in the sky and the clouds cover the wandering thoughts

The deep fog in the river expresses the meaning of a piece of paper leaning on the railing. When will the glory and splendor be gone, the old traces of mist and rain will be gone, but there is no future ahead.

The moon is hazy beside the Yiwai Bridge, and the cold light shines on the east side of the bridge. The river is cold and the wind blows in the sky.

A river of smoke and water, a dream of six dynasties, without a trace. The moment of youth is just a dream of flowers.

For whom are the peonies red? My heart trembles, and my tears turn into graves.

Looking back, another year of wind and rain, all the fallen flowers, mountains and rivers far away,

The sun sets in the west and disappears. Who is far away in the desert?

The solitary smoke is straight, the long river is shallow, and the setting sun returns to the end of the world to spend the passing years.

The sky is barren, but the earth is not old; the sea is blue, but the fields are not mulberry.

Think carefully about the years, one step at a time, one year at a time.

Whoever loses his time will leave it to the end of the world.

Despite Cardamom's lyricism, Dream of a Brothel is good, but it is difficult to describe it with deep emotion. The Twenty-Four Bridge is still there,

The waves are stirring and the cold moon is silent. Read the red medicine beside the bridge, and you will know who you are born for every year!

Whose time has been silenced by a flourishing fireworks? A flowing cloud and cloud,

Whose horizon is deserted? Whose cinnabar has been scattered by a ray of seven-colored sunshine?