Soft branches brushed the running water and flowers fell in the grass. What does it mean to fall in love with Yang Liuan and drink a bowl of acacia wine?

If the heart is like snow, the feather that writes slowly is Gong Yan; Book fragrance makes wine, and poetry is clear; Send a message in red and pass it on; Splash ink to condense the picture of painters. Fireworks have a fleeting time, silently counting the cold in loneliness and pain, quietly enjoying youth in light singing and dancing, waiting for flowers to bloom under the eaves in front of the courtyard, sitting under the canopy of the sky and watching the clouds roll and relax. Listening to the rain on the railing, my thoughts swam in the rain and danced into butterflies. Riding a light dance filled with rain and fog, it condenses into a curtain of dreams. Such as the feelings of lotus, let the beautiful acacia break into a butterfly, dance lightly at the fingertips of the fleeting time, take a strand of homesickness, twist flowers into dreams, pick off the stars all over the sky and give a gift to explain flowers. Look at the place, eyebrows are low, and if you give gifts to each other, it doesn't hurt. The homesick sail ran aground on the windless sea. The budding heart is lost in the song of summer night. Love is hurt when you don't know the truth, the beginning and the end. You can't escape the dialogue in your heart. Holding a piece of paper, writing a poem for you, thinking about it, has been moved. An egret looking at the broken line and strolling leisurely. A wisp of lingering emotion overflows, the ancient ferry and the slender bamboo flute are playing the eternal swan song of the world of mortals. Borrow a piece of plain paper, take Mo Xiang as the word, spread the sadness between your eyebrows with the elegance of Song Ci, and beautify your earthly charm with flowers. Holding a handful of water, cutting a wisp of breeze, carrying thousands of feelings, quietly in the world, indifferent to each other. A long fragrance, such as autumn water, is intoxicating, lingering in your fingers, carrying your thoughts, waiting for the clear water and the long moon in the youthful years when the night is as cool as water and the rain is as light as cold ... ● Tonight, standing in the clouds of the sunset. Give deep and long feelings to long poems, sing the graceful beauty in songs and poems, and go boating on the water. I don't know how many lingering notes my slender soul can carry for you. I am afraid that after a few seasons, my pen and ink will gradually cool down. I don't know you, will you still ring the beautiful myth that I have been sleeping for thousands of years and play a welcome heart sound for me? Willow trees are dancing to make the wind quiet. Tears for you, the butterfly language is popular in the still night. Who is your watch, who will read your melancholy. If there is an afterlife, I will be a heartless person, drink Meng Po Tang, cross the Naihe Bridge, cut off eternal love, forget the love of the Millennium, and bury my vows on the Sansheng stone forever. In this way, can I have no nostalgia? Can you be so heartbroken? Can you be heartless? If the night is light, the dream shadow is tired of leaning on flowers. I am full of tenderness and sadness, I will be elegant, I will be full of paper customs; Twisting the moon for three minutes, it becomes a flower edge, fate is displaced, and the dust edge is abolished. Dreams are far away, but your shadow is as pale as smoke, but it is always in my distance. I use my delicate fingers to stand slim, cross the willow bank, carry a wisp of breeze, fly over the dust of a thousand years, and lie drunk with you in the fragrant painting building, in the flowers in my dream ... ● The night is very thick and the dream is too thin. Who wants to wait for whom? A long and gorgeous chapter in life, who wants to stay for whom? Fireworks can't be cut, but neither can they. Hold a handful of acacia rain, fold a missing flower, float across the chrysanthemum platform, crush autumn flowers, gather your figure with expectation, and tell me that my dream has broken my sadness, but I wonder if I can hear my faint sigh in the world of mortals? Can you feel my tired heart getting older day by day? Dance your fingers gently, cross the oblique clouds, cut out a plain clothes for your mood, and write it gently into the fleeting time with simple and faint feelings. Cut off the sunset glow, embrace a deep feeling, embrace a shallow pity, swing a graceful heart, dance in the cool breeze and bright moon, and listen to the passage of time. Looking back at the fine dust, watching the wonderful fireworks show, guarding the long stream of Shui Yuan and crossing the dust for thousands of years are all warm to you. ● Cut the candle and talk at night yesterday. Today, the horizon was broken. When is the evening? For you, I picked up the scenery all the way, sang and danced for you, gently closed my eyes, picked a petal floating in my hair, and threw a heart sound like water all the way. Miss a thousand miles of smoke, sigh and sigh, if you can monopolize the moonlight tonight, can you banish your obsession and expectation to a corner of the sea, and never be contaminated with acacia again, isolated from your concern? ● Smoke is frivolous, slender tassels dance like filar silk thoughts, and the rain is soft and indulged in the warmth of butterflies. You know, the mediastinal landscape, every time the butterfly wings move, it will open a flower. Shui Yunjian, I want to wake up the clear water with the flowers, leaving only beautiful scenery. Even if I am silent, I am still happy. The smoke of the dawn night rippled with fragrance, darkening the bleak mood, gently bouncing off the worries tied to the eyebrows, crushing a wisp of sadness, and making a light song at the end of the world, with no words falling with the flowers. How to sing a romantic song with beautiful words? If I can see through the world of mortals, I just want to filter out all the dust. I don't need a flute to wrap my shoulders. I want to use safflower as the floor. I would like to be a spare flower, which blooms gently and shallowly, allowing the four seasons to alternate. When Ren Chao comes, I will stick to the pure land of my soul, stay away from worldly disputes and the complicated world, and decorate my dream clothes with that fragrant fragrance. Whispering in the night, leaving a crescent moon, cutting a thin shadow, cutting a few petals of mood, picking a piece of plain paper, holding a few rays of rain, dripping in the blur of dreams, dipping in ink at night, crushing dreamy thoughts, gathering deep thoughts in your heart, and letting the past fade away and disappear! ● Dreams fall into the world of mortals, singing and dancing lightly, splashing ink luxuriously, whose years are pale with a piece of paper, whose life is absurd, whose tears are dried up, who is playing the piano, listening to the pity of flowers falling, and listening to the sadness of flowers, in exchange for the ruin of that season ... ● Moonlight streamed down, stroking shy faces, wind, and distant whispers, the sea can't be reeds. Sitting quietly in the arms of the night, receiving the moonlight, staring at the water, climbing on an ordinary piece of paper, let the messy words show their sadness in their eyes. In the dead of night, my thoughts are floating like flowers, the mist is light and cold, my body and mind are full of tears, my eyes are full of sadness, and the clouds are boundless. There is nothing like leaving at this time, not talking about resentment, not talking about emotional complaints! ● The night wind caresses the window pillow, which is cool. I am always used to stopping in words and watching flowers bloom and fall. No matter how the season changes, what remains unchanged is the persistence in the palm of your hand. Life, even if it is incomplete, is also an incomplete beauty, even if it is sad, it is also a happy pain. When the faint fragrance wafts by, I bury my sadness under the flowers, pick up the lingering fragrance of fallen flowers, and talk gently at my fingertips. My tender voice is wrapped around the sleepless moonlit night, long and thin, with a lonely fragrance, and stays in the depths of the world of mortals. Take a break, listen to the rain beating on the windowsill, watch the silence of flowers and butterflies dancing, and feel as light as smoke. I just want to hold a handful of fine time, trace a few gorgeous thoughts with a piece of ink, and gently sing this beautiful season in the ups and downs of Tang poetry and Song poetry ... Looking at the bright moon in front of the window, listening to the breeze, Ting Yun floating in the middle of the month, whispering among the flowers, feeling tender. The drizzle smoke cage, the wind stops the dust, brings a flower rain to welcome the budding spring, dances in the delicate spring, and comes gracefully. A kind of tenderness, scattered into wheatgrass, pervades the four seasons. I just want to firmly grasp the bright and sad years, smile, lightly cross the world of mortals, and lightly look at the sky. Light is like water, which can't be washed away, fragrant dust is like snow, and the evening wind is like scissors, which can't stop cutting. Qian Qian, the soft spring breeze, with a faint fragrance of flowers, accompanied by the brightness of moonlight, fell into the dust, into the night, and fell into the fragrance, like fireworks scattered, dancing lightly in a dream, turning sadness into a touch of purples. A night of misty rain, residual red all over the ground, once stood delicate and charming, and now the flowers have blossomed, even if the flowers bloom and fall, I still pity the desolation and helplessness of the petals dying! Faint thoughts, perched in a butterfly, picked flowers on one shoulder and dyed a little ink, filled the softest corner of my heart, while the world of mortals painted a prison, never leaving the end of the world, looking back at the dim lights, some people can miss it and forget it, whose feelings can remain unchanged in the changes of years? People are at the end of the world, and their hearts are close at hand. A memory of tenderness and a touch of tenderness are waiting in a paragraph. Quietly taste your heart, give you a little smile, and let the dream that was once intoxicated in the heart condense into a flower fragrance in front of the window ... The wind is gentle, and the stars are tired, silent and lonely. Liu Hanqing dew, smell the flowers, see the street lamp shadow, see the butterfly dancing flowers, see the purples, fill the mind, get drunk with spring rhyme, make beautiful poems ... leaning against the window, looking at the east hedge chrysanthemum, the wind and rain lock the cold, the flying flowers fall red and thin, the fingers go out, the feelings are broken and the dreams are broken, sighing for life, and it is so quiet to meet again several times. Listening to the ancient rhyme in the drizzle adds loneliness in the cold wind, looking at the clouds and the moon in the distance, thinking deeply, painting ink fragrance, and writing it is difficult to express your feelings. How many people can see through Leng Yue's cold, lightly dancing acacia and smiling at the world of mortals? The night wind is rustling, Leng Yue is crying, full of Zen, empty as smoke, unintentional, and no dream to send, because he loved, or because he was deeply bound and lost! The cold wind is raging, the willow is not green, the warbler flies without a shadow, gathers and disperses, the heart is like cold smoke, the ghosting clothes are cold, and the shadows are sad. Looking at this shore from afar, acacia is like snow ... catkins are flying, butterflies are gone, flowers are sleepless, and dreams are tossing and turning. The heart remains the same, the dream remains the same, but the fate is shallow. Autumn rain flies, hazy, leaning alone on the windowsill, feeling melancholy, holding a sleeve of autumn sorrow, let a sigh condense into the melancholy of missing in the dust, flying with the wind! Romantic, drunk infatuation, still pity a pillow dream, don't be infatuated with tears, complain for a long time, how much tenderness, difficult to understand acacia, heart still exists, dream still exists, speechless heartbroken, why not say goodbye to water for a long time. Looking at the moon alone in front of the window, the willow shadow is slender, the autumn wind is a ray of sorrow, and the silent sorrow is wrapped around my heart. It's hard not to worry, but it's hard to stop. In this late autumn, I am alone! I can't find the intersection once, and the cold autumn wind blows through my heart. Everything is drifting like water. I can't stop caring about it, but I can't stop. In this late autumn, I am alone! If the heart is a dream, it will never stay after waking up. Why bother in this life? If the fate is over, turn around gently and keep that indifference alone, no longer contaminated with dust! Like a flower, it is gorgeous when it blooms, painful when it goes, and hard to stay after waking up! What a pity, the past is like smoke, and love is dusty! There is still a pillow full of fallen flowers ... beauty has dreams, comes and goes in a hurry, and prosperity is exhausted, all of which become misty rain, wither with flowers, bend with the moon, frost and dew, so far away, I am lonely as smoke, and you sit alone like a lotus. How much love can last forever, and how much love can last forever? How many lovers can't walk into each other's lives and can only meet in the afterlife. Heart like stagnant water, He Huan, so what if you die? The world inside me is cold. I hope I can have a cup of indifferent water to give up my thoughts and heartache together. Every year on Tanabata, I pass Yaoxuan. Who knows that there are tears in autumn? Since the world is one year old, why not just dusk in the sky? How many joys and sorrows, year after year, on this night. How many past events, dribs and drabs, are all empty and inextricably linked, turning into endless pain in my heart, smiling softly in my dreams, lingering, and Shanmeng is still lonely. A leaf of acacia sends old worries. When the dream is broken, the fallen flowers float without words, the drizzle blows the willows, and the phoenix tree falls in autumn. It is a Julia boat. A kind of sadness shook off the graceful words, sighed and repeated into the old tune. Who condensed the amorous feelings of attachment on the brow, making it as tender as acacia, as thin as a pillow in Qi Mei? Who picked up the tenderness between the lines in the misty rain with lingering poems and the fragrance of falling flowers? In the forgotten eternal sky, who is wandering in the twilight of the breeze, singing a sour oratorio for the monarch? After a long time, who is still on the water side, breaking a vanilla leaf? Looking at the water, who gives feelings to the flowing water, with a faint mood? A broken heart, who is leaning against the willow smoke? Who were you talking to before the flowers bloomed? Who did you tell your heart for? Through a misty rain, standing in a distant memory, I just want to sing it to you through the distance of time and space in the poetry of Tang and Song Dynasties! Leaning against the window and railing, sending thoughts from afar, dreaming back at midnight, no one can send parting worries. Who is waiting on the water side, expecting the end of the world? Who disturbed a pool of spring water in the depths of the world of mortals and fascinated the whole world? Looking around with a smile, who picked a piece of red maple on the lonely shore and engraved the motto of acacia. Under the worship of China, Jin Yi and Nishang danced for the king with great elegance, blowing away the dust and sand. Before the bridge was broken, the beauty kept her flowers for you all her life and poured them on the world! Looking around with a smile, who picked a piece of red maple on the lonely shore and engraved the motto of acacia. Under the worship of China, Jin Yi and Nishang danced for the king with great elegance, blowing away the dust and sand. Before the bridge was broken, the beauty kept her flowers for you all her life and poured them on the world! Autumn is hazy, staring at the flowers alone, and the soft petals all over the sky fall in succession, shaking off fragrance all the way, setting the autumn bash elbows. In the petal rain of falling flowers, the fleeting light and shadow dance with unspeakable sadness, penetrating the eternal rings, like butterflies flapping their wings and falling asleep. At this moment, I just want to sleep with the fallen petal and cross the Millennium with the faint fallen petal. In the boundless ferry, I will join hands with you in the stormy world, overlooking the fleeting poetry. English colorful autumn, together with the moon's heart, scattered into a grave, thinking of you, as soft as the moonlight falling on the treetops. Love is long, as meaningful and profound as poetry. Open the lintel of the soul and see through the autumn water with your eyes. With a wisp of breeze, across the lake, rippling; Playing songs, such as weeping and complaining, the aftertaste is flying. Whose skirts are wet by night, whose thoughts are swept away by the wind, and whose hearts will whisper? A touch of purples in the years embellishes the Spring and Autumn Period; The streamer of fireworks shattered the moment of youth. Misty rain and red dust, who disturbed the old dreams of youth; When the dust settles, who will tell the feelings of parting? Dance red and kiss xiu, play a sad red chamber. Listen, the flute sounds long in the distance, but it's a pity that the feelings are sad. You see, there is a long stream nearby, but it's a pity that the bitterness is like a dream. Who sees through the world of mortals, who has shallow words, who can put out this human fireworks? In the depths of the world of mortals, who is gathering gently, slowly twisting the faint sorrow, who is crying faintly? Who is singing for a beautiful passage? Who is the sad elegy for? Who fell into the dust and sang the fleeting time in Yaochi? Look through the curtains and gently lock your eyebrows. Whose heart is hurting? Whose life is in chaos? West wind roller blinds, people are thinner than yellow flowers, with ten fingers and one song. Too much sadness can't be brushed away, and endless tears are falling! Looking back at the whole city, the heart is misty and rainy, the wind is blowing, acacia is mottled all over the ground, intoxicated by the euphemism of words, and looking forward to meeting you in the deepest part of the world of mortals, with a long song. It's a long way to go, Xiu Yuan Xi, what's the pity? Affectionate and affectionate, how many words are written into poems? In the depths of falling red, thousands of feelings, how much attachment? Close at hand, it is always difficult to cross; Feelings are hard to break off. Love is romantic, empty and lonely! The continuous autumn rain touched a lot of loneliness and a little nostalgia. I like autumn rain, I love her elegance and purity, and I am infatuated with her romance and lingering. Rustling leaves, autumn rain is homesickness, a look back, a deep feeling after a brilliant life, and a statement of mood after a life cycle. Don't say she left so miserable. In the drizzle, there used to be many grass-colored and enchanting flowers, and there used to be many morning bells and drums that flowed like water. I can't sleep at night. I miss you with a pen, and I dream about it. I want to complain but have nothing to say. Who meets who in the world of mortals? Cause extinction, cold butterfly dream; Marginal convergence and divergence, drifting away. Don't reminisce, love words are sad. A dream of red dust and thin shadows, listening to the rain among the flowers several times. I feel tender in my heart, rubbing cigarette residue, dreaming hard to stay, standing alone in the west wing, the cold wind is full of new worries. A dream is full of prosperity, a piece of drunken flowers, a red face and tears, and a period of lovesickness. Just lock the lovesickness in the dream and let the tears flow! After many years, the dream slipped gently, like the wind is silent, like water without trace, like the story of flowers, tea paste blooms, scattered into mud, and sadness overflows Qian Shan. The wind passes through the treetops, like lingering tears in my ears; Looking at the full moon, vaguely like a dream. Light a lonely lamp, spread an ordinary piece of paper, wave the ink on the sleeve, miss the pen tip covered with sadness, and swim through fragmented thoughts. Tears droop and throb as before, shaking mottled memories. A song is pregnant, a dream is heartbroken. On the water side, who is still looking back? Recalling the past, turning in, it seems that the characters are in pairs. Since the fall, who reads the west wind is cool. When prosperity is over and tears are falling, who will accompany you to the ends of the earth? Dust is stained with ink, and painting is fleeting. Looking at this place, Shan Ye is brilliant. Wuyi Lane, in front of Xie Yan Hall. The flowers are late, and the piano is soft. Listen to the broken string and watch the passage of time. The breeze leans against the fence, and thoughts spread like water; Sit by the window and watch the sunset send away the day. Half a lamp of happiness, a pen in the ink and a piano in the ear, and a chocolate lock in three lives. Empty dust boat, cooking words to worship the famine years. If it is so clear. White gauze clothing, misty rain curtain. A ripple on the water scared away the fish under the lotus leaf. Listen to Yang Liuan's mud flute. In three years and three months, the lotus blooms for three seasons and dances under the moon. Yan Ruyu, a beautiful woman, was hit by a silver bell, which once made her feel pity. Who counts whose footprints in the wind? Who looks down at the world in the rain? Who leaves with sleeves but is reluctant to leave? The sun is silent, but when I look back, I see you smiling like glass. When the bright moon falls in the sky, who will cover the wandering mood, while the fog is deep and the river is cold, expressing a piece of paper, when the glory is exhausted, the road ahead is endless. The moon is hazy by the bridge outside the whistle, and the cold light shines on the east of the bridge. Miss Jiang Han, the wind blows away. A river of smoke and water dreams of six dynasties without a trace. When you are young, you will have a dream of flowers. Peony is red for whom, and the heart trembles and tears are buried. Looking back, it is another year of wind and rain, flowers are blooming, mountains and rivers are far away, and the sun is setting. Who is in the distance in the desert? The solitary smoke is straight, the long river is shallow, and the sunset goes to the end of the world. Forever and ever, the land is not old; Things have changed, but there is no change. Consider these years, step by step, year by year. Who lost the years, who made the world empty. Vertically speaking, although the dream of a brothel is good, it is difficult to be affectionate. The 24th Bridge is still there, the waves are swaying, and Leng Yue is silent. After reading the red medicine by the bridge, you will know who you should live for every year! A bustling fireworks, whose youth is cold and silent? A cloud of rosy clouds, whose horizon is barren? Whose cinnabar did a ray of seven-color sunshine scatter?