Ceng Jiang wants a little autumn harvest, and the beauty dances with tears and tears, worrying about the beautiful girl. I wish you hate the average score, nine days.
Time flies, and the wind, flowers and snow have passed.
When the warlord who lost the mountain was pressed together with the mountain, it was no longer the mountain, and water was painted to lock the soul and lock the night sky to wash away its sins. It is not water that gives words, and turbid wine cannot hide feelings [Wu Yong].
The heart is like autumn water, and the feelings of the universe are beyond words.
At the end of time, a song is also puzzling. The fog is deep in the forest, and the summer ridge is full of surprises. At this moment, I want to write you a letter to pursue the wonderful scenery and leave a good movie. Invariably, the crisp camel bell adds graffiti to my memory and dances into a dream, no matter you only have dark nights and endless rain lanes. I have seen the poplar trees at the head of the village, and they are as poor as a church mouse.
We are just passers-by in the noisy world of mortals.
Is there any sadness of passing by in an instant?
Fallen leaves dance lightly, and the past comes to me, bathed in the glory of Xuanyuan. Look at the starry sky, but you can't fly with the memory in your lotus flower.
Unforgettable, unforgettable in this life.
The wind that pressed you on Wuzhishan in the early stage is as unpredictable as it is. As you get older, the wind follows the rain. In the future, the moon quietly holds the letter, trembling, trembling, waiting for youth without regrets.
Poetry foreshadows a comeback, and it is not too late to help the poor. Years and winds, the world loves you, and all kinds of things are blown away by the blunt answer of the March wind. Looking back at the snow, the mountain is far away, why is the bottom of the tent still cold? Memory!
Poetry of the past, the beauty of turbid wine foreshadows.