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The moonlight is gentle, and the wilderness is thousands of years.
Dressed in white, flying like snow in the wind without being mottled and defiled by the world, it is as beautiful as new, which makes me plain and low-browed. I raise my hand and cast my foot like a white lotus blooming slowly in front of Deng Qing's ancient Buddha, picking up the clear tears on the petals and wetting the sigh in your pillow dream on the other side.
Dance, understand the shadow, light, gently rippling.
My tears have touched the vicissitudes of life in the world, and they only rolled down for you, gurgling like a spring for a long time. At that moment, my heart was filled with emotion, and you and I met in that charming poetic and romantic spring. Since then, the enchanting flowers in full bloom in spring have become a method transplanted in my heart, pestering me to pursue them from generation to generation, just for an ethereal fate, alone in the wilderness. Tear drops, sigh, dance, shadow wandering. ...
Have you ever seen this lonely dance in the world of mortals?
On tiptoe, I miss you quickly; The rotation of the flying body is all because of your swaying posture; Flying costume, Yue Hui with cold glass. The night wind, strangers, streams, a prime minister's thoughtful song, a soul-breaking dance, a lonely person, lost in the gorgeous waltz steps. On the banjo on the other side, from the bowstring of the crescent moon, you can play the lovesickness song of A Bi Hell, wrapped in long smoke, and indelible marks on the Sansheng stone at the end of the sunset. As long as you turn around sideways, the tears in your dreams will turn into bright and colorful flowers to dress up this drizzly spring. At the other end of the cloud, I will also wear a rainbow gown, holding the spirit of lotus, and Wan Li dust will come to your window, waiting for you to recognize my haggard face that has been waiting for thousands of years.
Did you really reach the other side as promised?
Persistent and lonely dance, along the crescent moon spring, cloud bank and galaxy bank, I fell to the ground in a rotation, but my eyebrows were infinite.
Mountain is a journey, and water is a journey. How many miles of mountains and rivers are separated between you and me? Counting carefully, my eyes were sore until I was exhausted. On the moon, a millimeter is a light-year world. Then, has the passage of a thousand years become the distance from sunrise to sunset in this life, and my dawn is your long night; Your morning light, my evening light.
Countless times of forbearance, countless times of pain, countless times of letting go, countless times of picking up, countless times of dreams, countless times of fog, weaving the desert wasteland into a acacia buckle, Qian Qian knot, taking love as a mirror, acacia threading, entangled with earthly vines, a simple heart passes through the blooming vines and hangs on the bustling wasteland to temper our dust?
Whose oath is floating in the wind from a distance?
Shy drooping eyelids, long sleeves blocking the streamer of the night, smiling, lonely stars are the eyes looking back at yesterday.
Once my fingers were locked, outside the mirror window, it was still the endless moonlight tonight; Yesterday's two of a kind, like a passionate rumba, was dazzling and intoxicating. When a flower blooms, we are lost in each other's eyebrows, fantasizing about looking at each other, freezing for a long time and enjoying it. Only when the mountains have no borders can we dare to die with you.
No, just two hearts overlap, and we can't get rid of each other's thoughts.
Don't give up, just want to hold your warm hand, and never leave the ends of the earth.
What I want is as simple as that, in a word.
My love is so heavy, a thousand years.
A beautiful night, for whom? A dance. Who is it for?
As time flies, I refuse to listen to the cold Sanskrit in the temple. I just want to bloom the most beautiful red flowers and green leaves in my life in one second under your gaze, silently summon up the courage of my life, and wake up the memories of previous lives with a foxtrot that has been hidden by time for thousands of years.
If you can still remember, remember those tears that were blown away by the wind.
If you can still remember, remember to wait for the dawn light for you late at night.
Lotus Lake, I don't want your oath; Qingshiban Lane, I don't want you to get tired of the past. I only want you to lower your noble head and unload your pride, as long as your graceful beautiful image slowly slows down your lotus-like steps, smiles and looks back, watching my clothes fly away for thousands of years and my hair entangle the world.
I just want to ask you first, are you who you were a thousand years ago?
White is better than snow, dancing out clouds of snow shadows, such as white lotus suddenly blooming between heaven and earth; Exquisite heart, petals lovesickness into delusion, ethereal into a distant and quiet dream.
Acacia for thousands of years is not a debt, so you don't have to pay it back; Waiting for a thousand years is not robbery, so don't be afraid. If I want to exchange the dreamlike Millennium for your secular stability, then I would rather kneel in front of the Buddha and make a wish for you, meditate and pray for the afterlife that I will be a green leaf and you will be a red flower just to set off your charming charm; In this world, you are the morning light, and I am the dew, which only shows colorful for each ray of your light. I would like to watch you wake up from your morning dream, with no tears on your face last night and a steady smile hidden in your deep eyes; I would like to watch you come back in the middle of the night and someone will help you take off the snow and give you a warm and real hug; I would like to watch you fall asleep quietly, outline your eyebrows again and again with my eyes, engrave your expression in my heart, let your image accompany me on my way home and smile with tears for thousands of years.
Things change rapidly, and things change. When we watch the sunrise and sunset in our respective cities, who will think of the wilderness of a thousand years of love in our hearts?
When the world's indifference overflows for a long time, when the white lotus in front of the Buddha withers in peerless youth, when loneliness breeds the noise of dawn in the dark, and when red flowers bloom in forbearance, this dance, a lonely solo dance and a waltz with no invited partner after all, should come to an end. I will dance to the depths on the way to the first retreat in a thousand years, and my feelings will reach the limit, just like a tree blooming in the night sky.
The past life is about to retire, and the afterlife quietly emerges. No one has lost anyone's Millennium.
Life is like a dream, and I don't expect the next reincarnation. If the continuation of future generations can no longer explain the unforgettable legends of thousands of years ago, why sigh for those wonderful agreements?
Let go of this life, not helpless, just want to fall into the world from a beautiful myth, silently wandering in secular love, looking for a couple who love me in this life and grow old together.
Before you go, let the immortal Millennium turn into an unintentional look back. Through the mist on this shore, I can see the flowers on the other side, let me take a deep look at you for the last time, see that the thousand-year mark on you has disappeared, and look at the strange you, so that I can never see the hope of become a butterfly in my next life.
From then on, strangers in the world of mortals will never know each other; From then on, the end of the world will never come.
Smile, Qingcheng.
A dance, unparalleled.