A copy of the time, write a tie the
old words, between the lines, the breeze with the breeze of the moon
scene, with the quiet Huang Lei Ju situation, read in the eyes, is a
story, read in the past, is a heart sound , Read in the years, is a
forest Jing Hao.
Red
is long, blowing endless sadness most likely to fans, turning chapter
of the most vulnerable to heartbroken, high clear sky, Jimuyuantiao, who
Xiang Yi in the river floor. Who, alone guarding the window children,
dipped in surplus sleeve of the subtle fragrance, the research of the
Indus twilight drizzle, falling thin than the yellow text, saying that
still? Who is the autumn wind tragic fan, to three of the plum blossom,
in the heartbroken voice in the memory of his life? Who, because of the
know, Phi dressed in compassion, because of the good, from the dust in
the open a flower, but also from the flowers in a lifetime of
loneliness?
Far
away, those vine-like growth of sadness, those near-heartbreak of the
view. But time, quietly left behind a statue of the statue of the back,
in every line dejected poem, pouring all the way to open fragrance,
built on a dike scenery. The scenery is carefully brewed a pot of wine,
need to be a suitable place to open at the right time, will mellow full.
Yes, for the rhythm of the four seasons handed down, a person is often
used to the opening season of joy, bloom spring, snow search for plum,
accustomed to a gradually getting better and melodious and prosperous,
moonlight Hawthorn, late According to Maple, and the most can not be
overlooked is often the one intoxicated silence, a blank, or even just a
rest rest in silence, a light music sound curl, because they are not
only in attracting, but also in the Spun deeply, that deeply gurgling
stream that heart, that deeply hidden in the depths of the years of a
vivid picture.