Essay about blue robes fluttering their sleeves and skirts dancing
A piece of red paper, who will stitch it together? The rouge is lighter, cinnabar red. The next year is like a dream, full of sadness. Looking up at the sky, the red flowers suddenly turn cold. Dongzhi Ningxue, how light and graceful is the world? The tenderness of the world, the tidbits of the garden. Mandarin ducks draw brocade, a piece of paper is fragrant, who will write it?
Flying flowers sing on the sleeves, like water and spring dreams return to seclusion. The cold wind blows over the Jade Pond, and the dewy winter moon's sparse shadows appear, as cold as frost. How much cold ink is there, and the courtyard is slightly cool? The clear shadows on the ice, careful plants, bits and pieces of fragrant grass, dare not compete with the alluring city, the pearl shadows in Yuelu, Xiaoxiang, the soft ripples of Yan's language, a small sign with a word, light, and think quietly. A touch of dark fragrance, a slight frown, the fragrance of Loulan flowers, asking about the accident, whispering softly, shyly shadowing the moon, listening to your farewell song on the pipa, lingering and graceful, a sad painting, weeping in the rain. Red tears on the ground, flowing down the cheeks,
The setting sun of autumn sets, and the dream returns. The red funeral flowers, looking at the human world, how much sadness and coldness are dyed in it? The shadows of the flowers are dancing, the cicadas are singing without thinking, the cuckoos are whispering, and a cool background is infested with colors. Whose fingertips are ice-cold?
Green hair dreams, Yishui marriage. How many flowers are blooming in the moonlight at the end of the world? Along the way, the poems and flowers spread lightly, and the paintings hit the shadows. The peach blossoms are red, who is dancing lightly, tossing and turning in the Qinyuan, the flowers fall on the shoulders, and the fragrance of a bouquet of petals gently steps on the fat phoenix in the dust, sending a wisp of red flowers. The willow brows are dripping green, among the layers of petals, there is a faint fragrance?
The moon shadow and the beautiful moonlight are not the blue of tomorrow, the sound of the sea, the moon dreaming of the sky, who has no twists? A glass of sake, I want to die. Wearing cold clothes and dreaming, stepping on fat water smoke. Who calls the present day away?
In the fragrant clothes and the moon, who painted the passing years in Orchid Pavilion? The moon sets on the city wall, and the shadows are cold. Who will pull up the slender green jade and the palace willows?
The flowers are falling on the green clothes, like water and smoke, who can break the song of the east wind? He is in a mess, he is too lazy to dress up, and he doesn’t know where the alleys are. Who is missing?
After several bouts of loneliness, the delicate fragrance of flowers and the dew of beautiful flowers call me, and it’s hard to find a dream behind a curtain. Drunkness is like condensing dreams, falling into a red tent. Gently wipe the shy flowers, close the moon, and dye it purple. Dressed in flowers, willows, and brocade, who is it?
There is a breeze, the fireworks fall, and the fireworks are dancing again. Window, one night in Nanping, flowers and brocades, pink roses and red makeup, who will step into the gallery with a blue shadow?
The beautiful rhyme is half-stringed, charming and lingering, and the fat is lifted casually, and the snow is in the jade. The orchids are fragrant, and the green clothes are ink. A piece of paper is prosperous, and the fingertips sing. As light as cold, with feathery clothes. The dream is wet in the painting building, and the butterflies are flying. A little bit of pink and white dyes the willow green. Kong Liang paints Ping, you have no shadow. Years pass by, and dreams are far away. Sighing like dust and snow,
Love is too short, passing by smoke and clouds, a dream, flowers blooming in the world of mortals, how many times? Reincarnation is endless, Baidu is deep, Fengqi's fate is destroyed, how many thoughts are there? The wet moon is frozen, who is with whom, who is watching the shadow of Zimo Taoxuan? Just like the cold, who is cold? Dreaming about the mortal world, human love, how much infatuation can make you look back?
I am worried about the stars and the moon in the pond, and it is difficult to express my words. Deep in the sea of ??clouds, who would have known that the beauty’s red silk flowers have all gone? The face is broken and thin, it is difficult to send a book, and the past cannot be tolerated, so I write in my heart. Snow is rising in the sky, and the chill is deep. The clouds are empty and thin, and the beauty is thin. It is difficult to paint the bottom of the painting. The pavilions and colorful clothes are in pieces. Once separated, the beauty will disappear.
When flowers fall, they are filled with sadness, and the city is beautiful. Dreams cut off the colorful clothes, and it is difficult to thin out the shadows. Wet with bitter dew, whose shadow is revealed? The long song of rain and ink is sad. The courtyard is fragrant and the wind chimes send it, who will sing the music and lyrics to the tower? In the cold moon and cold palace, I am alone and cold. As pale as Ling Yan, the sky is cold, the flowers bloom in loneliness, who will accompany you?
A chill in the heart, a sad poem. The words fall with sorrow, and the pear blossoms shed tears. Empty red chips, no one sent them. Broken is a lonely goose, with a broken heart. The fragrance of orchids when writing is unscented by anyone. A piece of paper leaves the sorrow behind, and wipes out the rain. The ground is red and no one loves it.
The wind and rain are blowing, it is freezing cold, the snow is falling on the wasteland, and it is desolate. The cold wind blows away the red flowers all night long. Countless flowers have fallen, and the remaining flowers are red and resentful. Sigh that the flowers are sad and the world is sad.
Painting dreams and beautiful relationships, the world of mortals is short. People are as sad as flowers dreaming. Who wouldn’t sigh when the rain falls all over the city? Life is full of ups and downs, but the flowering period is short. The pain in my heart is so painful that I can’t bear to leave. Who has no regrets when we say goodbye to the world of mortals? Lonely and ownerless, a piece of fallen red, silent. Tired red snow, dreams are too short. The flowers are falling and the red building is far away. The fragrance is lingering and the green is lingering, I don’t want to go, I only want to continue my love in my dreams. Hard to separate, hard to leave, unwilling to leave, buried in the world of flowers.
Sighing songs of sadness, worrying about the endless world, one thought of prosperity, all in vain, one thought of mist and rain, another thought of dreams. One worry, one thought.
Constant sorrow, not enough love. Life is like a play shared by oneself. Stepping on the steps is a dream. We are at the end of the world, and we don't care. Tsing Yi comes on stage, the two dramas of joy and sorrow go back and forth a thousand times, the heart is unwilling to give up, the hope is endless, the love in the world, the dream is too beautiful. A piece of paper is lingering and full of love. Change to beauty, the flowers will bloom again, send dreams of red makeup, dye asters, and come back to the world to walk a white head again.