Early spring, listening to the sound of trickling water outside the window, as if the hands of the piano drifting out of the sound of jade falling plate, moving notes, their own trance as if with the flowing water and white clouds as a companion. Quietly to the window of this scene, through the youthful splendor of the season, in the breeze gently brushed the day, I see the long river sunset, closed to read books.
I know how disturbing such a thought is. But what can be done about it? I'm not sure what I'm talking about, but I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do it. The evening breeze, I how apprehensive heart finally no longer stay in the book of beautiful words, I look out the window from time to time whether there is your silhouette. Said to read, just do a look, not to escape what, say goodbye only half a day, feel like a hundred years have passed. However, you know, "love" is such a word, simple but complicated, let me use a thousand years of time to explore, but also willing. The only thing that I love is you.
Because of you, I understand the feelings need to care; because of you, I understand the hard to keep each other; because of you, I know in that soul in the attachment.
In the picture full of love, you play the flute for me to accompany. Suddenly, the sound of your flute from a long evening sunset terminated, you look down at me drunkenly lying on the long steps, you look cozy, I slowly look back, you and I look at each other a smile. The languid evening breeze brushed your cheeks and mine, brushing away the vicissitudes of yesterday's you and I. Quietly facing the present prosperity of the human world, reaching out to unfold the picture of happiness in front of you. In the brilliant sunshine, you and I y embrace each other, each other is full of love, every time the expectation and waiting, always written on you and me unlimited attachment and enthusiasm.
The sunset on the stone chair, you and I shoulder to shoulder, sentimental flow of you, look at the flotsam flying turquoise water. A leaf boat gently flooded, you and I looked at the distant boat, there is a narrative of endless romantic feelings!
You said: "I will not because of the change of season and do not want you, I will not because the road is far and do not miss you, I will not because of the busy and estranged from you, and I will not because of the wash of time and fade love you."
I tearful look at you, but always can not say a word out, I'm afraid that I opened, you side fluttering like the wind as smoke dispersed. If I am the wind how good, you can be tightly surrounded, travel all over the mountains, see that the tide ebb and flow, a lifetime will be your attachment, always in your arms to stop. However, things can not be at the mercy of you and me, who can not predict how the next second will be, only the heart of the walk through today, the plan is never on the footsteps of change.
And now in early spring, less your company, the days are boring not out of its place, I buried the past years with tears, but always can not brush off my heart that heartbreaking picture, I am silent in Jiangnan half dream half world love half field air to find the way back, but lost the heart of the road.
Jiangnan Dreams - Essay 2
Travelers think of Jiangnan, dream often call.
West Lake spring is always in, Jiangnan beauty empty sigh.
Hometown in the clouds, memory sprinkled willow bank.
After years of separation, can you not remember the south of the river?
The first time I saw you, I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night. The willows are spitting and the grass is stretching out. The first time I saw you was when I was a young man, and I was a young woman. Dreamy Jiangnan flow is a thousand years of spring song, Ana colorful West Lake is full of too much mysterious atmosphere. In the red dust, there are pairs of footprints have kissed the soil by the willow tree many times, there are pairs of figures have visited the railings of the Broken Bridge several times; there are a pair of delicate hands in the regret of having mercifully stroked the gentle West Lake sacred water. Willow Wandering Ying, holding hands and leaving pictures; Willow Embankment and Bamboo Stream, pouring out words of love; Flower Harbor Path, holding hands, Three Pools and the Moon, caressing the willow branches by the Xilan Bridge, and reciting poems next to the Peony Pavilion. My lovely child ah, the spring of West Lake, the warm wind often blowing, leisurely rippling in my heart. Thinking of you, slightly lifting your head, quietly looking at the lake, the lake remains the same, remains the same. Oh, that is my dream of Jiangnan with Jun!
Oil-paper umbrellas, move broken step, see the water of the West Lake in the sky dance. Falling on the body, happy in the heart, look at the umbrella side of the pearl flow. The rain is not wet, and the words are warm to the heart. Fireworks in March, the grass grows and warblers fly, who is my soul to this magnificent waters. The umbrella is held with both hands, one person out of only one hand, the left hand of the gentleman and my right hand. Under the umbrella to avoid the rain, love to listen to the language of the heart, head against the shoulder of the gentleman, bathed in the language of love. The alley hides love, the heart of the gentleman my heart, four eyes look at each other, how much promise, can not palpitate! A night of spring breeze more floating, wet clothes not wet peach blossom rain, long slender rain like a string hanging in front of the eyes, who struck my heart strings, let me chase the wind by the wind with the fragrance with the flower dance, so that I am in the dreamy happiness in the walk! The heart is already a thousand trees of pear blossom, when thanks to this blowing face not cold willow warm wind favor!
West Lake summer - rain - happiness
Small bridges and rivers, white walls and green tiles, willow curls and smoke slanting, lotus leaves field. The water is clear and the fish are chatting, the bridge is curved and the people are in the water. You do not say that I am beautiful, only that I come from the poem, with a wisp of gardenia fragrance, the breeze blowing hair like flowing willow. We take a row of willow leaf ark, along the water, skirt floating, sweeping the water, through the smoke and rain, with the sound of the pulp gently beat the days of the passing of the years. The grass is green, the willow is curved, dreaming of Jiangnan; the rain is silky, the lane is long, drunk in Jiangnan. Snuggled in the grass charming couple chairs, into the small bridge and flowing water in the scenery of the painting; linger in the pavilion show flowers in the garden scenery, poetry and painting, talk with the birds, read the moon in the water. Temporary separation will also leave a long time thinking about each other: text message to open the lotus shy, love letters fly to the rose show; phone pot open smile face Xian, the dream left behind Jiangnan sweet. Who does not love Jiangnan? A few more smoke and rain, a few more charming, a few more running water, a few more tenderness. I am the heart of the delicate 'Jiangnan woman, in the praise of the sound of Jun, turned into a lilac-like hazy elegant taste, deep in the heart of Jun branded the indelible mark.
Pouring a glass of red wine with acacia, lips slightly open, lightly drunk, suspected of Jiangnan dream tears. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to get a good look at this, but I think I'm going to be able to get a good look at this. The curved moon, light sadness, a few minutes of smoke and rain, a few minutes of running water, all given to the women of Jiangnan. So that you can never walk away from the curly water town, walk away from the lingering rainy alley, walk away from the willow winding, walk away from the image of the cheongsam. The light humming, no psychological rhyme, any song run tone. The world has said that Jiangnan is good, only you know.
West Lake Autumn - Sunset - Hurt
The sky is high, the clouds are clear, the water is long, the West Lake, the wind is cool. The sun sets in the sunset, the sun shines through the leaves of the trees. The dissolving sunlight through the leaves, the light torn into pieces scattered all over the lake, fragmented, slightly cool. The west wind, a pool of debris glittering with strange colors, moving with the wind, poignant, heart trembling: that is not a fragment of light in the shaking, that is my left behind pieces of text, that is my fly the remnants of literature, that is my heartbreaking love language song. It was swept away by the autumn wind and fell into the water, but also remains a little ink, a little bit of uncertainty, with the wind strangled into fine pieces. I'm not there, sinking fish thousand years, who will take it in? Text scattered in the net, a few struggles, a few more plowing, a few fragrance? Today, in my dream, I saw the water of the West Lake again, and in the sunset, I remembered you. Slightly lifted his head, quietly looked, the tears of the mother-in-law secretly flowed. The sparkling lake water is still the same, still. Just words hurt, broken is not able to return to the hometown, often dreaming of the landscape of Jiangnan, and that not too cold, but make me feel too sad winter!
West Lake winter - snow - away from home
West Lake snow, blinding and white. The greenish-white light is awe-inspiring. I can't help but step down gently, and a feeling of broken jade reaches my heart, accompanied by an amazingly crisp sound, like a crack in my heart. Broken bridge covered with white snow, the curved courtyard residual lotus white; flower harbor path through the bamboo building, three pools and the moon outside the building; snow in the search for plums in the Lingfeng, Leifeng Tower looking at the West Lake, a blanket of white.
Backpack, bid farewell to their hometown, counting a piece of snowflakes slowly drifting down. Your tears, my heart is broken, against my will only say that it does not matter, a wave of hands, only sigh the next generation. Little by little to move heavy footsteps, little by little to give up the heart of the attachment, little by little to cut off the entanglement of love, little by little to move the cause of sadness, little by little to refuse to drunkenness of the excuse. Pick up the bag, pride and bravado, far away from home. Tell my father and mother, I'm going to go to the four sides of the wandering, forget his appearance ......
West Lake beauty - dream - left behind
"Sunrise river flowers red hot, spring to the river green as blue, can not remember the south of the river." Jiangnan's agile and flowing bridges and rivers are installed in the heart of the traveler, which is refreshing, can not remember the South of the Yangtze River? Jiangnan's fair lady walking in the melancholy rain and smoke, intoxicating, can not think of Jiangnan? Jiangnan's charming poetry has been passed down for thousands of years, but also fragrant, so that people can not release their hands, can not dream of Jiangnan? Jiangnan's parents leaning on the door looking through the eyes of the hope that the return of the traveler, it is difficult to say, can not want to Jiangnan?