My eyes, waiting for you to pass by my face

A section of the old word dyeing new rhyme, floating life hope, drunken millennium ferry. The people who fall flowers are independent, dancing into a butterfly. The dance is so beautiful, the pear face is so shallow, there is no language to grieve, empty self-pity.

--Wen: Mo Xueqing

A paper of red dust full of paper bleak, ink shallow love is not full of pathos, half a river of moonlight, mashed fishing singing thousands of stacks of pianos such as shears, cut off the platform of ten thousand, frost maple horizontal pillows Dancai, the water to be sent to the reed, the peak of the mountain, smoke and clouds to provide, the sound of flying feathers flow, white grass folded, the season, all the scenery, all with the landscape into the painting. This season, all the landscapes have been painted with the landscape. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one, and you'll be able to do that.

I'm waiting for you to pass by my face in the light of day. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new pair of shoes or boots, and you'll be able to get your hands on a new pair of shoes or boots. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one, and you'll be able to do that. I look at the green shirt, I thought it was you holding a feather fan again, I heard the paddle, I thought it was the boat you came back. Leaning on the railing, the water alone, red face, green temples, wonderful as last year, both eyebrows convergence, lock your promise. The willow branch flow, pen for your light book word Wan.

Dipping the ink is sad, pen into injury. The black ink on the white daylily on the speed of writing poetry, mountain no mausoleum, heaven and earth together interpretation of the legend, broken my obsession with your grievances. The wrong red line, ultimately stranded love, diluted expectations. The first time I saw this, I was looking forward to seeking the fate of my past life. The year of the brocade, the rhyme of Jiangnan, the bright moon reflecting the clear spring. I'm not sure if I've ever seen you before, but I'm sure I've seen you before, and I'm sure I've seen you before. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.

In this life, I was born in the ancient wind and piano rhyme, died in the bamboo curtain dream, accompanied by the enchanting loneliness and the tacit understanding of the heart. I do not want to use to say, willing to listen to the heart, sometimes point to the sky and draw the oath is still pale, why should I ask for a permanent commitment? In this life, you will be my eternal confidant, even if the landscape overlap, the wheel of the years, the wind and the moon, old age, I will still wait for you on the other side of the shore. The drunken dream, broken vows, I dare not touch that scattered a pale miss. Yesterday's soul dream, Shaohua passed away, I know, there is a kind of fate called love shallow. I also know that there is a kind of ending called the end of the song.

Love is easy to break, people do not stay, the passing of the water sad autumn, thousands of love and thousands of ideas, the red dust rolling, who will book a song to keep each other, and I *** cut the years, quietly guarding the flow of years?

Faded after the splendor, who will end up standing on the other side of the shore to guard you. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new pair of shoes or boots, and then you'll be able to get your hands on a new pair of shoes or boots. I used my life to wait for a result, who is in the distant end of the dream, light dance neon dress, under the moonlight, the thought is not full of good people not returned to the moment, deep love and sad.

Who is standing in the memories of the lost pouring tears, sound miserable, in the old man is not again, red beans are not planted good karma is not tied to the other time, looking at the way back to the road. And who is standing in the rain fuzzy woodcutting head, became a footless bird, can not stop, in the lost all the way to cry.

Those stories of the wind and moon, quietly hidden underneath the unfinished promises of you and me, waiting for mulch, waiting for corruption. And I stood quietly in the wind listening to the melody of sadness, listening to the years go by issued by the sound of wailing, waiting for the way back, waiting for the way to come. But when I look back, I realize that the rain has deserted the path. How much I want to go back to the people did not go, the love did not clutch the moment, as if after years you and I sit peacefully in the field under the tree to see the red dust illusion, **** enjoy the sunset clouds and moon, shadow into a pair. If you are down and out all your life, you have no complaints.

I smile shallowly, flick a slender finger of flowers, cymbidium orchid heart, far away from the end of the world to solve my flower language. You leisurely singing, accompanied by a song of high mountains and flowing water, rhinoceros floating light, dream shadow, **** my sadness and happiness. I would like to bear a thousand years of wandering, for a lifetime of dreaming, white heads will not leave each other. Smoke wave paddle sound, see all the red dust and purple strata, who will promise you prosperity for three lifetimes? Who will twist the past years into a life of wasted time? The years of the stranger dance quicksand, in the fingertips of the gentle diarrhea, a section of the sound of slow, singing how much sorrow, how much despair. A curtain of residual dream, has been transformed into a mournful zither sad book complaints, this love, will eventually fall into the dust, in the red dust in the endless wandering.

A few times the flowers bloomed and fell, flooded the mood of who rippled. Who sighed if life is only as good as the first time, revealing the regret of seeing each other as well as nostalgia. Who reads this life only wish to hold hands, failing the spring of the blossoming of flowers. I don't ask how many years I've been here, I don't see the moon as full or full, I just leave a lamp in my heart to light up my face. The only thing I wish for in this life is that I can still see the smile on my face when I see the world changing, and the fate of the world coming and going.

See, whose thoughts swayed gently with the moon's shadow, drunk on the branch? The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world, and then you can get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world. Like flowers flying in the sky, falling on the end of the pen, falling on the sea of the heart, falling on the end of the sky. So, I pour out the beautiful flowers of this season, for you to sing all the affectionate waiting. Engrave your shadow on the lintel of love, write all the warmth and lingering, and then, with a line of text string loneliness, describing the sadness, forgetting each other in the river and lake.

The lonesome fingertips, flicked up a past event, the story about you again lingered on the brow of the heart. The first time I saw you in the past, you waded into the water, the end of the world is close at hand, the wind and snow month is ultimately the love of the shallow edge. When the sea, when the prosperity of the end, such as water eyes, only a drop of bleak.

Waiting for you, as promised, whisked away the sadness between my eyebrows; waiting for you, stepping on the sunset, washed my eyes between the hundred turns of sadness; waiting for you, in every place where the wind passes by; waiting for you, in every piece of maple leaf red moment. In the coming year, you and I will renew our love, abide by the agreement, deep love **** dance a lifetime of lingering love. My eyes, waiting for you to pass by my face.