The arrival of the rainy season, disturbed the rhythm of the strings, messed up a calm page, with the pen fell some difficult to understand the sentence, I hope that in the sort of any set of words in any set of eyes, looking for a shadow of the past, write a stroke of you, write a stroke of me, stringing together the ripples of the circle, painted concentric circles in the miss, playing the notes of lovesickness, drifting into the air, haunted the night of the light of the moon every night, and the gauze of the night across the distance of time, following your distance, and the night, and the night. The first time I saw you, I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night.
Walked through the bustle, walked through a season of glazed, stormy occasion, devastated paragraph, washed and dyed past, turn which page, are a pile of sadness, the original thoughts are a string of notes, played, a sound barren shoulder of desolation. Sorting fingers, tone ups and downs, and suddenly haze the sky, a storm is coming, the obsession is still in a cup of forgetfulness, difficult to pull away, in situ waiting!
Thoughts dragged a long note, a string, stepped down deep and shallow sentence line, according to that section of the green, repeated chanting, Xu is not enough breath, always sing not complete, you in each section of the fuzzy yesteryear, how to splice can not go back to the original place. So the tune squeaks, then the light counts down, notes high and low ups and downs ...... When it is clear, twisting and reciting the words and phrases in the scrolls are all catchy; when it is rainy, an umbrella covers today, forgetting about tomorrow.
Thoughts are a string of notes, clear and melodious tone, the aftermath, witnessed the first sight. It slowly through the gaps of time, with the wind of the years through the changing seasons, the seasons to their respective faces, curling tone, interpretation of the tone of thoughts, perhaps spring and summer amorous, people more lovesickness, and the autumn and winter depression, deeper the flavor of which, discretionary, are a different taste in the heart.
A string of notes, in the infatuation of the summer played, like the sound of heaven, curling sound, circling around the ears of time. Time passes by, memories rush away, the shadow of the past is bright and dark, flickering, floating in the distant waiting. Who is the impenetrable wall of this life? Who is unable to forget, unable to rearrange, only fine reading, broken thinking of memories? Speechless to understand, the end of the world and the corner of the sea, separated by thousands of miles of distance, separated by a blank piece of paper.
The curling summer approached, a variety of floral flavor, a variety of colorful, ting ting a window of the daughter's mind, always in this wind gently, the flowers are bright moment, sweeping the east wind, open the lintel of memory. Thoughts chattering, thoughts rambling, always want to have so a flower is good when the thoughts will dance lightly, singing that old love song, sitting in the ecstatic ferry, beat a string of notes, towards the near side of the thoughts.
If you can, the achievement of a river of persistence, in each scene to meet, not to render, not to fight for the fragrance, but also the clouds and water will be happy, but also can be blossomed to cherish the flowers, flowers do not fall away from each other, that's how good it is. Silently stepped through the years of flowers, spilling freely is a thick warm, fixed is a warm page. Quietly promise, in that moment of wind and rain, will also pillow string of notes, the bright moon net flower, peacefully go to sleep; still will be in the water side, to create a circle of the fence wall, surrounded by a garden of flowers, for your poetry line.
When the note of longing rings, you can know that you are far away, is the near side of the waiting? You can know, this paper of words, just to retain the memory of the first sight. When the end of the day, the years annihilated the fireworks, you have come, will not be for this full of paper, the handwriting, and put aside the disturbance of the chaotic branches, a moment of stay, stop, listen to thousands of years, dipped in the thoughts of a string of notes, the ballad of ......
paved the path of thoughts, step a string of notes, the The years as a word, the thoughts as a melody, through the evening drums and morning bells, in each of the foot of the dawn rise of the sheep's words, so that the song dazzle some, and then dazzle some, always circling back to your side!
Already in the story of the fragment, polished into a flower in the mirror; in the tide of thoughts, watch over the moon in the water, this hut of thoughts, for you to open the doorway of a lifetime, I hope that day comes, you still remember!
Wen/Fallen Plum Snow Dance
This is the first time I've ever seen the world's most popular movie.