Part I: time to cook rain, years without trace
Time like a never stop rushing river, things change, time quietly and slowly passed, twilight look back, life has gone out so far, life appeared in a number of people, walking around on the loose, thinking about the fade, we can not be as frank as the time bold, can not be as instantaneous, can not be like time, time, time, time, time, time, time, time, time, time, time. The time is like a shuttle, the years are like water, those who have been rendered by the years of love, finally stayed in the depths of memory.
It has always been like a light rain, pattering, lingering drift down, the eaves of the raindrops strung beaded curtains, the beauty of people can not breathe, the rain petals, after infiltration, delicate, emitting a pleasant fragrance, the distant pavilions all in the smoke and rain, a curtain of rain, cleansing the dust of the mind, charming the depths of the time of the scenery, surplus a party of freshness and spontaneity, so that dusty past, gradually surfaced. The past, gradually surfaced in the deep mind.
Those youthful years of commitment, the road together, said that the wind and rain, *** with the realization of the dream, now can not withstand the polishing of time, faded ***, which enchanting years, like a blooming flower, fragrance of our past and the plain years.
Once young and wild, once thought to cry together, laugh together, together with the people who have chased, can accompany each other forever, to later finally understand in time, some people once missed is not in, no one can accompany each other forever, no one can hold the longest days, time in the go, the age of the long, youthful years, had said good not to be separated, to have been always been together with the people, and now can be known and abided by each other! The first thing I'd like to say is that I'm not going to be able to do anything about it.
The wind contains autumn, leaving a ground of fallen flowers, walking through the years of sadness and joy, time has changed, everyone is no longer pure as water, the past swaying in the branches of the years, gently surplus a sprinkling in the bottom of the heart, those who have cared about us, warm us, so that we stayed in love with people, with the rotation of the wheel of the years, away from us asymptotically far away.
The older the time, fewer and fewer loved ones, so that we cherish more affection, love and friendship, time will never favor anyone, too hasty, can not be retained, perhaps life is a process of meeting and parting, looking back, every time the corner of the eye will be in the memories of the tide of moisture in the silhouette of the time, had warmed up how much of the meeting, and how much despair and parting.
People's lives are always destined to miss the marriage, and you hand in hand with the people of life, perhaps not when you were young and once loved the people, and the plain and simple people but with you *** with the life of a journey, after a thousand turns, so that you y understand the plain is true, life is so unpredictable, the time to cook the rain, the years have no trace of the flowers fall with the wind, the passing of the A picture.
Like flowers in the water, the moon in the mirror, time can never be reversed, people can never stop the departure of the falling flowers, life can not escape the cycle of life and death, flowers will not be because of who's sadness and happiness in the next year is no longer in full bloom, just this year, beautiful red flowers, is not last year's branch of the flower, the years are long, years and years of flowers are similar to the age of the month, years and years of people are different, are the inevitable experience of the years.
The winds of the years blew again and again, slowly blew white our hair, carved deep wrinkles on our faces, leaving traces of the years and the vicissitudes of life, regrets are always so much, the passing of the years, who have not been in the life of the wonderful people and things to miss, engraved memories evolved into the most beautiful legend, after all, we are just a passer-by in the life of the too many people who have warmed up our hearts, and then The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one, and you'll be able to do that.
Out of the blue, life has come out so far, many years have passed, I am still that poetic, romantic and elegant woman, let the time flow hastily, the years have changed our face, but did not change the initial sincere feelings, but also so that I y understand, the world of flowers blossom and fall, the moon has a clear and round and lack of, which is the inevitable scenery of life, anyone can not change the sadness of the dust, and peacefully! If you want to face, life as a falling leaf and light, floating life as a dream, but is a smile over the calm.
Deep in time, heavy years, light and quiet, so that we y understand, how many flowers full of branches, there will be how many autumn leaves fall, there is a tide on the tide, there will be parting, all the experiences are light to face, the beauty of life, due to the peace of mind and calm, peaceful life, such as the wind, such as the wind, such as rain, such as the flower sweet, such as the cloud in the free.
Twilight look back, perhaps after the hustle and bustle, more like plain as water, and the world's life, sitting alone by the window, feel the warm sunshine, a book, a cup of tea, a music, like the years after the precipitation of the quiet beauty of the time, you can be intoxicated by the music, in the words of the favorite wandering, in a cup of tea, taste the bitterness of life in the aroma, perhaps that's the taste of happiness, let time! The time has never stopped, and as long as we live in peace and health, what's the harm in slowly growing old?
White plum said, the so-called poetry and wine while in years, and only when the youthful heyday of the most squandered time, a drunken ****, ten years later, and then go back to look back, only to feel the red dust as a dream. We but in the dream to do a spring, autumn and evening addiction, tired of the colorful dust.
Only love happiness, only hope that there can be a proper place to arrange the fall of their own, before this, no matter how much you know about the world, still can not do calm and relaxed, the world must be tasted in person, to know the true flavor of the dust, the long road, must be personally, to know the length of the distance and it. The time will let us mature, experience will enrich our heart.
Time is silent, silent forward, hold the hand of the years flipping through each year, so that a heart rendered by the world, such as water as clear, such as clouds, such as the wind as free, such as the flowers like blossom, back to the basics, as things go, time to cook the rain, the years have no traces of the time, time is merciless, do not understand people, all the grudges and rights and wrongs were washed away by the years without a trace of the heart of the feelings are still at peace in the depths of the red dust! In the depths of the red dust, looking for a quiet place to cloud Zen heart of the free, watching over a period of secluded years, to the elegant posture of life, always believe that the most beautiful scenery in the front.
Part II: Time to cook the rain, hold on to the sand in the hands
Renewable time to flow, still remember, will not let the years swallow their own, the memory, the most sincere self.
--Title
Wind blowing flowers on the tree, swept over the corner of the eye, you look like a picture, looking at you as if looking at the end of the world, the heart of the tenderness with the rain flower beat, not on, simply with the burial of the fallen flowers, leaving the ground full of attachments to be the next branch, with the roses, such as fire, splendor of a whole summer.
Cups of wine around the fireplace night talk, shallow taste of the heart tea, a song in the ear divination, who is looking for her in the dream. Walking alone in the rain, let the rain hit the umbrella eaves and clattered down, damp wind written full of attachment, but like flowers generally do not want to give up but had to leave, let the cold wash through the hustle and bustle in the restlessness, quietly, miss, perhaps to avoid a fault, so calm, slowly walk through the rainy night, because of the waiting, perhaps one day will coincide with the blossoms.
No big jianghu, look down, but it is just the hearts, and the hearts, but who can not control, so, the parting of the sadness, meet the joy, the regret of the downtrodden, the power of the greed, and we, scattered in the jianghu, as a sour fruit, a green leaf, the only thing that can be done is to keep the heart, regardless of the situation, regardless of the time, if you have, if you meet, to cherish! The only thing I can do is to keep my heart, regardless of the situation, regardless of the time, if I have, if I meet, I will cherish it, at least, in the way towards the loss of this is happy, if you can't keep each other, they will be forgotten in the rivers and lakes, and each one of them is good.
Rain is still falling, do not easily put down the hand of the brush, rainbow has been sketched, just still have to start from the thorns, the bottom of the heart a little want to retreat it, think about who said the words, afraid of only aggravate the spread of pain, drink a cup of tea, the pain as a barrier, bite the teeth, and then perhaps adhere to the last second on a completely different. In this materialistic world, we often forget, what is the original desire, so only in each silent night alone cry, sacrifice those years failed to adhere to the dream. So, if you are still dreaming and still in pain, please close your eyes and go on with your pain.
This season, is the gardenia blossom time, the fragrance of the season with some unique emotions, such as ambiguity, such as parting, graduation season, with the halo in the canopy gradually amplified and gradually away, today's students, turn around to the end of the world, the essence of the students, all harboring a dream or the golden list of success or the clothes to return to their hometowns away from home, and perhaps who does not know many years after their return, whether they will be in reality! The first thing you need to do is to ask questions about your choices or use a tone of voice that mocks the dreams of others to cover up your own uncertainty.
People say, life is a life of competition, to go a long way, so the eyes, can not be confined to only the front, as a trip, a practice, we, in the scenery to grow, grow into the scenery in the eyes of others, we, in the loss and get in the metamorphosis, the cultivation of the heart, such as the valley of the orchid in general, in the red dust, only to open a window, the peach source, only exists in their own hearts, and this is enough. The first thing I want to say is that I'm not going to be able to do that.
Life, always full of all kinds of helplessness, just need to regulate their own mentality, busy, do a good job in their own hands, but also do not forget the original idea, learn to encourage themselves to experience this matter to bring enlightenment, do not let the mind numb, machine-like work. Idle time, listen to light music, let the nerves soothe down; turn over a book, feel through the mind of the smear fragrance; make a phone call, and friends or family to share the mood; code a little bit of warmth of the text, to stay a clear self in the words between the lines of the watchman.
Word, indeed, is a very wonderful way, through which youth can be eternal stagnation, because it, the end of the world instantly become a stone's throw away. Encounter with the text of the day, the sky so blue, the wind so gentle, lying on a bench in the southwest, as if to Jin Yong's Jiangnan, or the long river round the desert, thousands of miles of snow drifts in the north. We, wandering in the words, from euphemistic to bold, from fantasy to historical reality. Thanks to the words, let us in another world enough to flaunt.
If you can, then do a sufficiently introverted man, in the river of years, hold on to the hand of that little true, with the flow but do not lose themselves, ride a lonely boat far away, any time to cut the past, but also to keep the peace of mind, because brave, is never over-exaggerated, how to break up the flow of the years, I hold the hand of the sand, and good that is good.
Part III: Time to cook the rain
"The wind blew the rain into flowers, time can not catch up with the white horse, your young palm of the dream words, still holding on to it?...... "Time remains the same, people as the same. Just when the youth into an old photo, I had to ask myself a sentence: where did the time go? Why can't I remember.
The rain piles up the new soil and stacks it into a new riverbank, and the new flowers are still blooming on the bank as they did in previous years, but the time is gone. Where has the time gone? It seems to have changed many things in the snap of a finger.
Today's trees, seemingly green and lush, but the wind of time blows, it is full of yellow, withered leaves, butterflies and general fluttering, in the completion of the last part of the dance of life, fluttering to the ground, turning into dust. Today's flowers, seemingly colorful, but the hand of time, but also can not change the fate of withering, can only tremble to the ground, although reluctant and helpless. Today's people, seemingly handsome, but the time knife a row, there is only a head full of gray hair and face full of zou lines, time on their faces mercilessly printed on the traces of the years, telling the cruelty of time. The time has gone where? I think the time will be in the blossom of the melancholy of the blossom and fall quietly passed away.
"The old tree in front of the door grows new shoots, the yard withered wood and blossom, half-survived a lot of words, hidden into a head full of gray hair ......" Time is like a drop of water from the tip of a needle falling into the sea, there is no sound, there is no shadow... I was not the innocent girl at the time either, my childhood has long been submerged in the flow of time, and my youth has been left behind in the pale waves. We are accustomed to hiding the time into the camera, the time fixed in memory, we often turn over those yellowed photos and those unsent letters, and then look at the vaguely childish and innocent smile, we think a lot, we feel, such as the surge of the tide of the heart, in the sparkling water, flooded with layers of ripples, the breeze, gently rippling with the boat, with the past and the present sailing to the past. Time, always gone forever, in your unconscious, from your fingertips slip, maybe you can not touch control, turn around will slip away some years. You have no time to sigh, no time to stay, can only follow the footsteps of time hurriedly forward.
Where did the time go? Time to stay on the father's head full of gray hair, the father with his upright spine, fearlessly carried a home, but ultimately could not withstand the vicissitudes of time, slowly bending. Time left on the wrinkled face of the mother, she gave her youthful years to us. Time has eroded her beauty, her face, engraved into the eternal sun and moon. The wrinkles on her forehead are engraved with the experience of the vicissitudes of time. But she is still in her hands with the thread in the soles of the knitting the love of the meticulous. Time is like water, always speechless, if you are well, it is a sunny day. This is the time of parents, they use their time to protect their children from the wind and rain.
Where has the time gone? Time slipped away from my fingertips. Maybe now some people are still rejoicing that she still has a great youth, but I want to say that youth is really very thin, like the dandelions floating in the sky, the wind blew, it was scattered. Time is such a moment does not wait for people. Unconsciously I have college, high school life is still vivid in my mind, looking at the teacher's classroom wonderful handouts of the memory, we *** with the test exchanges written tomorrow, a wonderful segment in front of my eyes non-stop restore, with a smile with tears silently lifting the memories. But after all, it has become a thing of the past, I can only do in the time of the waves of the land stumbling to leave a blurred figure and deep and shallow marks.
Maybe many years later I can still remember the campus that I once walked together, I can still remember when the sun set and we once had a crush on a teenager, and I can still remember when I escaped from the classroom after that period of time that the teacher had forgotten. The years go by without a trace, the years but the sound of the ground, have to admit that time is really too cruel, once the past of the tear-wetted is also just a faint scar on the wheel of the years.
The rain can wash away the dust, but can not help people to restore the old photos. Rain fell petals fell into the soil, we can not be undone, but we can go forward perhaps the flowers bloomed in front of us, the passing of us too late to cherish, then let us cherish the present. Don't wait until the years are only distant memories. And then with a slightly cool tears and remorse with withering.