generally speaking, chun yin is soft, and it is a flat bridge with dissolved lake water. Reading this poem, I walked into the fog and clouds of the West Lake. Outside the Qingshan Building outside the mountain, the thin rain after the Qingming Festival is oblique, like a string, and it meets in the mouth of the pavilion, and it is like a continuous silver zither. The white wall tile seems to be covered with a layer of silk, like a picture, red into the flower cheeks and green into the calyx. The broken bridge and the broken snow melted in March's bleary eyes, and the weak water became dense, and the screen curtain opened. Chunniang had no intention of embroidering the beautiful scenery, which also gave me the illusion that I was traveling especially in those days. Gaze at the thousands of miles of warblers, look at the hundreds of grasses and thousands of flowers around the bank, and the balcony water hall stretches. Listening to the fishing boat's tricks, the sound of light and short, telling the story of the wind and dust between the water and the clouds, the trembling shadows, breaking the light makeup of Xizi Lake and the appropriate color, sinking and falling, until the ripples dissipate, clear as blue, vaguely a treasure that proves the beauty of the world.
the drizzle is as light as a dream, and the water swings in front of it. If my heart is like a canoe, my thoughts are like waves, and the fragrance is flooding in the stranger's old age, let the romantic days be filled, and lend me a pair of long-distance travel shoes to take me back to a long time ago when I can't tell the difference between reincarnation.
It's wet and clear, and passers-by are dead; I am the poor Confucian scholar. I took advantage of the green window to cross Xining Bridge, Gushan Road and Sishengguan, and all the way was the echo of flying paper money bells. My blue shirt is old, my description is thin, and my mind is dry. Although there is no reason to enter the eyebrows, I don't know where this kind of gloomy and cool feeling comes from. The so-called busy places are left behind, the sacred places of lakes and smoke are isolated, and the sandals are all over the mountains and rivers. Although the world is big, I am not allowed to return.
the water country is covered in the Qing song, and there is no brocade sail blowing in the home. Send a boat in the shape of a leaf, float anything from the stream, stand on the bow with a small hand, and see the infinite red smoke, where there is the Lanzhiting Island that Due is looking for in vain. Can the six-character kindness I breathe take me out of the trap of the world and cross this fence? However, I am reluctant to take this step beyond the threshold, perhaps because I have no intention to sign a karma prophecy, perhaps because this mountain and water is everywhere in Ming Xiu, and I am a little greedy, because I believe in a red line that I have established.
Some people say that if you look back 511 times in your previous life, you can build the same ferry in this life. An encounter at a ferry in life has made an unforgettable and fatal pleasure. And everything began with the first encounter that had nothing to do with romantic affairs. "I live in the West Lake, don't ask about the year of the flow." A whisper of pity, you are like this misty rain, stepping on my swaying journey home. Step by step to help the willows, and the flowers tremble and shake. If you look for them, if you are near, you will be sparse. The combination of flowers, blue musk deer full of lapels, your green temples and plum makeup, just like white clothes, explains that the east wind smiles, and when you enter the poem, it is a sentence to write Luo Shen lightly. From your moonlit eyes, I read more about the sentimental attachment and affection, the deja vu, and the scattered pieces of Ye Yun in misty rain and poetry. I smiled when I met you at that moment. You did not avoid my sight, responded to me with warm eyes, and acquiesced in the peace of the dust.
I am willing to be humble and humble, and to serve you to clear the dust. You started to tell this one-year-old contract. I sipped a sweet daughter's red in a touch of carmine on your cheek, and enjoyed a flower to explain the world, so that I could be gently separated from my stagnant loneliness.
what fascinates you in the world? What makes Nong envy, envy Lang stern swallow. Swallowtail, such as scissors, cuts off the migration of logistics dust, cuts green trees and adds Qionghua, which was originally lonely and full of life. And everything is in a posture where you wave your sleeves to hide your smile.
how can the makeup of Yu Yu, the imperial palace in heaven, be more vivid and bright? You should pity the fangs and print the moss. At every step of the bridge, there is a misty rain outline propped up by your 84 umbrella bones, which injects the affection that will accompany you all your life. Step by step, step by step is not empty, and your gestures are also carried by your son. The landscape has no intention, but you just remember the common human love one by one, and some vows that you will always think are good when you meet by chance are told to the eternal heaven and earth. When the hills are all flat, When heaven and earth mingle, Not till then will I part from you.
how can the scenery on earth be compared with the windless and rainless scenery in the paradise? Who gets the light of a hundred years old, and how much do you know about the worries? Like this, the scenery is fragrant, and it is inevitable that broken walls will be given the autumn wind and the grass will be defeated one day. The journey between the dust is difficult, and only when you touch your smile in front of the mirror can you be indifferent to the hardships of life and have a long journey. The only thing that doesn't change when the chronological order changes is that a stream in my heart warms you and me.
how can fireworks compare with and a jade plate of dainty food calls for a million coins in the sky? After three days, I will cook and hold the soup. Grain of rice and clear water, ordinary food and drink, but as a nectar and jade, it is sweet, not only that every grain is hard, but also that the case of Qi Mei's husband and wife's love, if the myth gives me a happy marriage in my lifetime, I can't ask for anything more, but all I want is to treat each other with courtesy and love, and to treat each other with respect. Willing to match words with virtues, hand in hand!
how can hard work on earth be more comfortable than that in heaven? But you're willing to take care of Sang Ma, regardless of morning and evening. Make medicine and grind jade chips, and tea is at the window lintel. You put aside the eternal life of this thousand-year practice, insist on the ordinary husband and wife's feelings on earth, and even ignore the ruthless taboos of heavy laws, and repay my daughter with a grateful period several times before reincarnation!
Life is always unpredictable and unpredictable. I thought the Buddha had pity on me, and you were my white-haired wife forever. But Chun Qing only noticed that the pear blossoms were thin, and the pieces were scattered. Envy the human good marriage, perfect simple love, but also like a flower fleeting.
that year, amid the roar of many astronomical phenomena, I was lost in my irresistible thoughts. I saw you, the woman who once stole medicine for me, let out a piercing and desperate cry, and 31,111 ink spread over her shoulder. blazing with anger seems to have infinite hatred to penetrate this heartless day! As soon as your sleeve blows, the white waves are overwhelming, and the love of death that I can't vent for you is overwhelming. The moment I vaguely remember, you looked back and smiled at me, with a thin shadow and a sweet shoulder, and you were infinitely nostalgic. I watched your figure fade away, like a dying Bai Niao, and your feathers turned to smoke. Your smile of setting time and space is a sigh that I can never let go of and a broken rock that I can never make up for.
the Leifeng tower falls, and the West Lake is dry. Who left this insurmountable curse of love for thousands of years?
seven floors in all directions, how can you restrain the clanking love of living souls wandering in nine places and eight places?
on the string column of water songs, how can this unprecedented marriage, which heaven and earth can't tolerate, flow away?
Is Fang Yin, whose heels are shallow, once a sea of hope? And the thick soil still records that piece of paper in the deepest place? Is it that the tide of the brocade lake is your worry, and you don't forget the immortal lover. Is it true that the song I was madly chanting can awaken your heart that has been sleeping at the bottom of the lake for thousands of years? Plain clothes women who cling to the coast of endless years, do you hear my endless call?
In April in the south of the Yangtze River, where the fragrance of jasmine is warm, ideas are growing like lush grass by the west lake with drizzle and oblique wind. I gladly picked a calamus, walked through the flowing water, crossed the broken bridge and fragrant embankment, so I hope you will find you all the way. Looking for the road in the dream, flying rain falls in the English. Is every bloom a word you can't say? Is every inch of dust incense a trace of the heel of a thousand years ago? The melancholy charm of silk and bamboo is like a lingering acacia, which runs through the faint maze of winding paths. Which cloud is the barrier for you to look at me from afar? Is it love but not seeing or worrying about the repeated curse of love robbery? Is the road blocked and long, or is it easy to count on earth, and you can't find that rain-eroded hut again? Why did your 31,111-silk shawl sneak into me day and night to wake up the shadows? Why does your graceful Tingting entangle me? past lives can't tell the difference between profound joys and sorrows. If karma gathers from water, why can't I walk away from your forgetfulness all my life? If the encounter is a long-separated reunion regardless of age, can I exchange 5111 times and 51111 times for a bunch of favor you gave me and open it into a brilliant lilac in my heart? Although Zhu Hu can't light a lamp opposite to you, and change the floating name to shallow singing, you also know that I am covered with a misty rain, and my eyes are broken in the intermittent wind, which is a little light. You, who should be amazing and unchanging, are fluttering in the wind, and the cloud sleeves are waving a lonely legend. Haven't you seen that my sun-seeking blue is still thin? Do you know how dare I die alone if you don't come?
I suddenly have the impulse of not knowing who I am for, and then this infinite hesitation. Who plays the role of wrong love in my story, and who can relieve my unbreakable affection for children? It can be seen that the love of delusion is far from perfect. Today, when there is no beginning to remember, I am fascinated by the truth and am willing to admit the truth. Love is the most nihilistic word, such as morning dew, like lightning, unpredictable and hard to shape. However, all people hope to hold hands without regret once in their lifetime, walk steadily from a corner of the world for a hundred years, and never tire of looking up and down. What remains unchanged are the lakes, temples, towers and bells. Instead, the men and women who make pilgrimages and pray for blessings worship this pure land of love. The tower shadow reflects the waves, and the West Lake is still enchanting, but how many hard-working love words have been written thin and hollow? Bright flowers and shadows sway like a dream in heaven, but they can't dispel the faint sadness like misty rain-every year on the Qingming West Lake, a few spoony women are seen!
the fragrance of dust caresses the ladies, and the sound of selling flowers makes the green cherry blossom and the willows look green. The yellow wine in Wanghulou is boiled to the boiling point, and the bell of Jinshan Temple is ringing in the auricle, which turns the prosperous dream of Qiantang from ancient times to where? Is it a Zhu Ge embroiderer who lingers in the beautiful songs of pipa, a character left by gracefu on the wall of Xilin, or a broken tablet on the long beach? How many blue shirts did BMW cars send? Jade Rui contains fragrance, how many women's grievances haunt Luo Yi? A glass of turbid wine, how many emotional roots are drunk, and there is no cause of life and death? I sing as soon as possible at dusk, and I look forward to the beautiful woman. I can't see the deep fall. Who is it with low eyebrows and heavy heart and a sad look, looking through the three paths in tears? Xizi Lake is as beautiful and pure as the Iraqi people's eyes, and exquisite flowers are as charming as their words. Golden sparrow sings a perpetual joy, which is well recorded and exciting. Who stirred the strings and made thoughtful music? The person I miss may be planted in the sky beside the sun, or another year in the sunset.