The flowers bloom unintentionally, and the rain falls silently
Life is a fragrant flower, and the flowers bloom unintentionally. Life is a drop of pure rain, the rain falls silently.
The flowers spit out holy fragrance, and the rain moistens the fragrance.
After many years of hard work, I have cultivated my heart into a lotus. My heart is like a lotus blooming, not to meet you, but to seek this love with you.
You always owe me a look back in your past life, this life, the next life, and reincarnation. In the misty rain and mortal world, I will walk like a lotus for you. That moment is the most beautiful beginning of life.
You use your persistent pen and ink to scent the decaying grass, and you use your long and deep feelings to fill the lonely heart. Who is it that blows away the faint fragrance and gentle wind in the world, and returns my life to light clouds and breeze? Who is it that scatters and crushes the bright red all over the ground, comforting me for a moment and laughing proudly into the sky?
I look at the other side Strong cow, that is you who is stubborn, pretending not to understand my words. There is also the green willow tree in Baqiao, it is your amorous spirit, drunken and intoxicated.
I saw the butterfly on your fingertips. It was the light me, whispering my heart song to you. I saw the red lotus in full bloom, it was me who was pure and clear, looking forward to a lifetime of colored glaze.
Always enjoy the purity and flawlessness of magnolia in the breeze and drizzle. Always feel the depth and breadth of the sea in the warmth of spring and the blooming flowers. Always listening to a fairy tale in my heart just around the corner. Always in the reverie of rain, a holy lotus blooms.
Flowers are the most beautiful imagination in the heart. What kind of wisdom and feelings do they have? They can take away the waiting in March, the expectations in April, and the loneliness in May. The raindrops in June are so picturesque! Your literary thoughts are Andersen's fairy tales, and your soul is Beethoven's music. So close to the end of the world, the dusk is stunning, and it contains so much concern. Under the bodhi tree, the magnolia blossoms bloomed, and so many wonderful flowers bloomed. I seem to see the poet's eyes and wisdom dancing and singing in the graceful lines of poetry!
Looking at the flowers with tears in my eyes without saying a word, the red flowers flew across the swing! I wonder if there is blood on the lips of the flute player, dyeing the thoughts and infatuation flying in the night sky red? In an instant, the red lips of the flute, the piano, and the lips linger in the depths of the soul, and the rain falls one after another, scattering all over the place. The earth is tender, and when you are emotional, the flowers bloom and fall, which is poetry.
The past is like snow. Because of you, I read poetry. Because of you, I study in the sea. Because of you, I walk on the snow and sing in the pasture of my soul. Because of you, I walked in the rain with a leisurely and indifferent mood, turning those trivial thoughts into the most warm and romantic scenery.
Even if time goes by and the sea changes, in the whistling and shouting, life passes through the desolate wind and endless silence, showing colorful colors and abundant water colors in the right place, blooming into the most gorgeous and beautiful scenery. A fragrant flower blooms into the richest and most refreshing drop of rain.
I am fishing for melancholy in Mochou Lake. I engrave memories on Yuhua stones. It rains every day in my world. A little sadness, a drop of joy, or even a silent look in the eyes are full of life-rich rain. Looking at the soul through the eyes of rain, it turns out that the soul is so pure and transparent.
You stand in the wind, waiting for your dreams. You, cross the bright moon, enter the rain, and slide lightly to the south of the Yangtze River. Drop by drop, drop by drop, the small raindrops fell on the stone steps, like the harmony of wind chimes, reflecting the clear moon. The mountains listen, the flowing clouds fly into the sleeves. The flying snow shakes the pear, and the purple smoke holds the lamp. Looking back across the street, the jianjia is confused. The past is like jade without fragrance. Flowers are the fragrance of spring and the warmth of stoves in winter. Rain is the brilliant lightning in the night sky and the crashing waves in the sea.
The flowers bloom with fragrance, and the rain falls with love. A sincerity spans the sky.