The song is over
The song is over
The song is over
Why is it that I am able to lock up my heart, but not my love and sorrow? In the long life, why is it that the joy is always withered at the first sight, and the most beautiful time is always the most beautiful time that goes the fastest?
--Title
Ximurong's poem, is so gentle and sad, clear and beautiful through the light sadness, as if a dance of elegance and the vicissitudes of the dancers, in the end of the curtain, in the sound of the gentle music once again remembered the past. The wind and snow, those winter and spring, those flowers blossom and fall will be cohesive together, with the pen end of the text unfolding, so sad. Every word is a memory, every word is a heavy sigh of relief.
All kinds of life, the last must become empty, love and hate, the last must become empty. Before countless times intoxicated in the mood of the poem, to experience the sadness from the bottom of the heart, but also before countless times in the dashing rainy night to look back on the road, love and sadness, will be in the moment of looking back in the loneliness of the night with the rain fly. The life of those who have experienced the sweet and sour, those who have previously owned or have lost the perfect, those who are staged or have been the curtain of the encounter and parting, not as depicted in the poem?
The beauty and preciousness of youth lies in its innocence and flawlessness, in its unattainability, in its never return. The vicissitudes of the years in her brush walking, that unfolding, but the Zen of life? Life is impermanent, the gathering and separation of the interpretation of her pen, that follows the shadow, but can not drink can not drink, but will still be spelled out but a drunkenness?
Perhaps in the eyes of many people, life is not pretentious, where there are so many disease-free *** sadness. However, such as I feel, but like a different kind, often inexplicably fall into it, for a nostalgic old song, for a familiar scene, for a place of zero residual red, for a sentence to make self-sentimental words, and let those sadness climbed all over the heart. The first time I saw this was when I was in the middle of the night, when I was in the middle of the night. The first thing you need to do is to take a look at your own self, and you'll find that you've got a lot of time on your hands, and you'll find that you've got a lot of time on your hands, and you've got a lot of time on your hands, and you've got a lot of time on your hands, and you've got a lot of time on your hands, and you've got a lot of time on your hands, and you've got a lot of time on your hands.
Cups of confusion, in this spring season, in this silent night, suddenly remembered this sentence, I do not know from which book to read, but always impressed. Cups of confusion, in addition to its swaying confusion of the agar, lies in that fragile and fugitive sense of illusion, then sadness, whether it also stems from the life of that fragile and fugitive sense of illusion?
Home from work, sitting on the bus with eyes closed, suddenly heard the neighbor's cell phone is playing a song: I finally know the end of the song, the loneliness of the people, only sad people have, your last red residue in my eyes, I have no excuse to cling to. Zhang Yu vicissitudes and trembling voice in the ear back and forth, the heartbreaking song brought me into the year, distant memories with the sadness, tears unconsciously surged to the heart.
Thinking about that year, in order to an unlikely to continue the feelings, only to come to that coastal city, the boyfriend's brother and his two comrades received me. In the hotel, said that had to deal with the reality, the helpless I just bury my head and cry, big brother on the side of the silent accompanied me, silently for me to hand over the paper towels, let me vent the pain in the heart. For a long, long time, raised his head, I actually saw my big brother's eyebrows in that a touch of deep-seated heartache. (The most classic sentence)
Although it is the first time to meet, big brother's gentle companionship, or let the helpless self have a touch of warmth. That day dinner, big brother pulled me to his home, a table of people sitting around, I can see who want to send care to me. But then I was very young, do not know how to hide the pain in the heart, but the sadness written on the face, the crowd's eagerness to basically ignore. The first time I saw this, I was able to see the woman's face, and I was able to see the woman's face, and I was able to see the woman's face.
Perhaps it is afraid that I can not let go, after the meal, my brother accompanied me in the waterfront park to walk slowly, a circle and a circle, no matter how much my brother said, I have always been silent. The first thing I'd like to say is that I don't know what I'm talking about, but I'd like to know what I'm talking about, and I'd like to know what I'm talking about, and I'd like to know what I'm talking about. For a long time, he softly spoke of his heart buried secret, a never told anyone's secret: his life has also had a deep love before, but they are destined to not come together, to deal with the reality, he chose to let go, although the heart also has pain. He said: love is not possession, but to let each other fly higher, live a more pleasant ......
It turns out that this is the end of the song, the loneliness of the people, I still want to wait for you what you tightly pull my sleeve, and let go to let me go, this time with me completely break up. The song in the phone is still playing over and over again, the road of life is still floating and sinking to go, but in my lonely and helpless, but can no longer find you, that before in my most isolated and helpless when I have given me a warm feeling of big brother, that rounded up my heart for a lifetime of brother's dream of elder brother. The reason for this is that since that time, we have not contacted each other.
It turns out that time as clothing, love and sorrow, has long been interwoven in the warp and weft of the clothes, dense in our lives.
So this is the loneliness of the end of the song, when I have not had time to hold your hands.
The perception of the selected two:
Listen to the wind painting dream, do not ask the end of the song
Years of drunken words, lonely used to listen to the wind to tell the language, the fingertips left a few old words, once the dark scent of the memory, gently with the clusters of messy, look at the wind, laugh at the clouds rolled clouds Shu. If you ask the edge in, why only the heart of the dream, all kinds of glaze, so that the past Judas memory, such as the wind like language, listen to the wind painting dreams, do not ask the end of the song.
The story of the time walked through, with the rush of flowing water like the passing, and then find no trace. Those scattered prosperity, seems to be always in the dream smoke in the sinking, painting ink, can not give the perfect story painted on the defects.
Sitting in the wind, and the wind blowing up. Too many helpless matters of the heart, always with disturbed thoughts, wandering in the hollow of the night, from not knowing how to wisp clear, let the strong feelings dance in the fingertips, sparse shadow a few broken remnants of the dream, lightly told, lightly chanting. (Team name)
From time to time; always in a quiet time, lightly pinch the pen of memories, write years of unfinished dreams, longing in the dream, and the story of the meeting, once as a thousand feet of fallen flowers, even if the tears dissolve, but also from the past, I do not know can not be collected or frozen, perhaps; I have never forgotten.
So many years, walked through countless mountains and waters. The road of life, many things, but also from the moment I step in depth, know how to cherish and be grateful, even if the life of each person, a long time later, there will always be a period of personality in the day, is so miss, can not forget the figure.
Tonight; as old. Leaning on the window at the light, looking at the sleeping city, tracing a few heart residual sadness, once again listening to the wind, the remaining temperature re-warming. Dreams haunting turn around, but so, seem so panicked, the dream is not a dream, listen to the wind depicted.
The wind through the dust, painting paper word line. For the life of this magnificent drift, in fact; I do not have much grasp, to master the later things, every time the indulgence of broken thinking, always in the silent world of deep thought, countless deliberate review, unbearable search for the dream, repeatedly responded to the end of the song, the people separated from the sadness.
Some of the road, we can only walk once. In the years, the passing of the past, the perfect memory, the old dream of youth, in the countless miss and parting, always in the years between the walk, framed the can't go back to the previous, the moment of the passing of the light, speechless matters of the heart, chaotic strings into the fingertips of the desolate.
Empty chapter sentences, broken no intestines. How many dreams of falling flowers, how many people away from the tea cool, listen to the wind, waving painting, tear ink in the dust of the broken down past, brewed into a cup of bitter wine of the years, this is a unique taste of sweetness. The first thing you need to do is to get a good deal of money to pay for the services you need.
Several times in the spring and fall, the bitter life. We are always so, will be the life of the road, after walking through the deep thought, seems to have missed a lot. The search for the circuit, and the flow of the years again and again virtual mist, the old days of the past, lamenting the youth will be wasted, how can we not, the night and day dream breaks, chaotic moods add sentiment.
The moon is hanging, the wind is intoxicating. Sleepless dream, still vaguely remember, wind and dust dream Hua, lonely over the song of the previous past. Perhaps; there is always a person, had so loved, even if the final turn, do not ask the song is over, but also not the year that the fireworks bloomed brilliant, I want to love, this is me, the perfect before.
The year blowing off strangers, the old man looking for Fang chaotic dust. Falling red depths, dream song has become a story, empty left tenderness, is the fingertips can not be dispersed fragrance, only the memory of the painting, deep will have been will be the oath of allegiance, turned into mud, was clarified by the blank, the eternal memory of the flourishing fall, and no longer ask the song end people scattered.
Apocalyptic time, tender and loving, whispering, how many phantoms such as paintings, lonely indulgence. Unbridled listening to the wind painting dreams, leaving traces of desolation, in the lilting far away between, light look at the world of the world, will flow through the sadness and happiness, with the time and scattering, curtain call strings, the final dialing of my loneliness of a person. Since ancient times, the heart of the first love, lonely still bitter thinking people, those who accompany the wind and rain, instantly like a world apart, said goodbye forever, the last quiet parting, mercilessly break off but into the ancient and modern, but speechless lonesome, meet only for the dream laughter, Naihe, things are not love has been exhausted, looking at the end of the world to the end of the road, the only thing left is the end of the tear bomb song.
The pen and paper to write the book of silk, the end of the song of the flowing water heart entangled. How many tears have wet the sleeves, how many songs have been the end of the past to paint a dream, gently rippling in the sea of smoke boat storm in the heart, flooded with ripples of memory, and was withered loneliness, forever become listening to the wind painting the end of the song in the dream of the sound around, how many people have been dispersed, flying in the dream smoke in the rivers and lakes, the last silence is difficult to say, is so old things are disturbed.
The great years, years of dreams. I do not know the years have gone by, the old age, away from the sadness of the steps in the memory of this street, can not help but pick up walking through the watery years, or perhaps I, so persistent capricious, bent. In the passing of the time of the flower, will be the bitter short life, in the end of the pen crazy, pale face reflecting sideburns listen to the wind painting dream.
The end of the song does not ask for a few degrees of infatuation, listening to the wind and painting a dream to and from know. Walking in the vast world, how many things have been seen? In life, there are always people who leave, there are also people who keep breaking in, which seems to have always been the theme of the story alternately, the light boat flooded the moon over, the song end music break, the picture of those empty remains, can not stop, just in the vicissitudes of the years, the inch break is difficult to collect.
Drunkenness of the years, light grasp of the moment of the passage of time. The first time I was in love with the quiet loneliness, used to loneliness, I will always be in the mood to write in that one, enjoying the words side by side with the vulgarity, can not be sorted out, in the depression of the prosperity, the pen An sentence, listen to the wind painting dream, and finally do not ask the song end people scattered.
The wind is blowing, the wind is blowing, the wind is blowing, the wind is blowing, and the wind is blowing. Can not let the dream, painted on the wind of the mind, the long night, a few wisps of uneasy panic, in the bright moon hanging in the sky, by the moonlight into the heart of the glass, appears to be so tired, to those who fall off the picture of uncertainty, hold in the past of the heart of the sinking, if really can be dispersed, whether it is to let the lonely shadows, once again sleep in peace.
Sitting alone in meditation, the wind painted a dream, drunkenly asked the song is the end of the people scattered. There is no return to the shore of the old dream, in listening to the wind language, Xiao Qu blowing away from the sadness, drifting away from the cloud slanting boat far away, a thousand sails over the end of the floating waves sweeping, just; in the experience of the story, the helplessness of the changeable. Dreams such as falling flowers, gently stirred the heart of sadness, it is always difficult to depict the broken heart.
There are flowers blooming on the other side of the river, and the stalks remain withered branches. The entanglement in the red dust, edge to edge, how much infatuation, etc., after being pain, will know, how to bury a past deep love, barren and therefore passed away, must be the feelings of the passer-by, wind ripples, silhouette time, listen to the wind painting dreams, do not ask the song end people scattered.
The third of the insights:
The song is over
I finally understand: the loneliness of the song is over
The courtyard is deep and deep, and the steps are full of wutongs. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to get a good look at this, but I'm sure I'll be able to get a good look at it.
The other side of the country is heavy with dew and flowers, and the loneliness and prosperity are all towards the evening, leaning against the window to the moon to add sadness, the wind in the solo drink to solve the problem.
The first three years of his life were spent away from his home country, where is his childhood sweetheart? I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it.
--- Liuli Luo Luo
A few degrees of wind and rain, a few degrees of spring and autumn, to and fro *** and a year of glory, drink up a thousand cups do not know sadness, and then look back, you are not in the lights at the end of the place, only to leave me, tearful eyes, alone, counting the autumn. The only thing is that the night is deep and the cold comes between the sleeves, who will add clothes for me?
Most of the recent week is in the 10 o'clock after bedtime, this is to borrow to watch TV entertainment pastime, who knows the more you watch the more mental, so always stay up late to very late. The first thing I'd like to say is that I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm sure I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm sure I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm sure I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it.
There are a lot of times when you are in a daze and in silence, although you may feel bored and lonely, but you can't bring up the interest to chat with others, instead of talking about some useless words I prefer to enjoy a person's self-complacency. I told M that I am a lonely child, M unremittingly said, you are lonely, if you are lonely, the whole world is autistic. In fact, I just occasionally crazy words, sometimes I think self is a schizophrenic plus mental debilitation of the person, perhaps everyone in a different environment under the influence of action speech will be different, just more often I am quiet.
I'm not a good at expressing feelings of people, always cold appearance, occasionally I would hate this self, too often and will put themselves in the shoes of others to think for others, for some other people do not care about the small things and touched, I know that I have always been good, so a lot of times I was self-moved. But whether I am quiet or move with the wind, I will accept this kind of self.
The winds of autumn have entered my bones. When one day I understand a lot of things a lot of road need to self walk, a lot of things even if you say more than others can not empathize, so the day is cold I no longer complain, only silently for the self plus a piece of clothing, although no country to the city appearance, but also face pretty, smile forward, in the city silently do the self should be doing things.
I firmly believe that the years have the power to destroy everything without moving, it can make us from the young and uninvolved to the old and serious, from the former youthful beauty to the gray hair after, all the things that can not be relieved before will be in the passing of the years to become an understatement, and no longer fussed about it, everything will be a light breeze. And then we just sit in our own courtyard to watch the flowers bloom and fall, to the sky that piece of white clouds gently wave, say goodbye.
A few days ago in the space dynamics to see double sent photos, she got married, double is my high school classmates, and her male siblings are her college classmates, I have also seen, double is really very good, they can tie the knot is really a thing to be happy about. Shuang has always been a woman who does things in a low-key manner, although they got married without informing me, but I still can't help but comment under the photo to wish her well, precisely because I really expect her to be pleasant. Previously graduated from college for Qiqi marriage did not notify me and nagging, at the moment think, really should not, she has her ideas, there are her concerns, and she knows that we have just worked everything has not yet settled down so do not want to bother, and I have to do can only be silently for her blessing. I just want to say to Qiqi: no matter when, if you need me I must remove all the difficulties standing in front of you, some things you do not say I do not ask, but this coupled with the friendship must not change. Expect you to be healthy and happy, expect you to be healthy, I know you understand.
Last year, Liu's wedding I attended as a bridesmaid, when I saw the stage two pleasant people drink the cup of wine when I was already in tears, at that moment the feelings are complex, remembered too much. Willow is my high school classmate, but also college classmates, counting, seven or eight years of feelings, not a few words can be said, happy for you, and finally find their own home, but then look at a dormitory in the University of Zhao, Lan, Ye Ye, unconsciously, and then waves, so no longer able to hold back, squatting down, tears rustling down. Suddenly remembered another person, thank him for knowing, although you can always guess my mind, but the feelings are two people's things, please forgive me for my indifference and callousness, I do not want to owe anyone, can only bless you.
Many times I love this kind of rambling, no gorgeous rhetoric, just plain very peaceful talk, as if with an invisible old man talk. Just fall has been into the bone, blowing the hearts of people a little cool.
Yali and Huayan are in the self of the small home of the husband and mothering, small life are also living a taste. The first time I saw this was when I was a student at the University of California, Berkeley, and I was a student at the University of California, Berkeley, and I was a student at the University of California, Berkeley.
We have always felt that Li is a person who knows how to live, working as a nurse in the county hospital, her husband is a high school teacher, this kind of match is very much like the combination of the TV series, the young people at this moment in the outside world to stay a long time to return to the home of the heart will become more and more diluted, and Li can put down all the entrusted in the small county to live in peace and quiet, I very much admire her. I firmly believe that her heart must also have struggled and entangled, but all this she dealt with noiselessly, as if it should be so, and everything as if it is really so, I think only so know how to live people will really get pleasure.
A lot of people are no longer in contact, and do not like to take the initiative to call anyone, before the moment inexplicably want to write a letter, so I bought a lot of letterhead, but the flying clouds over the end of the return of the letter, where to send the book? The letter paper is bought back, just now has been in the bookshelf sleep too long.
Speaking of letters, I have to mention Juanzi, because most of my high school years, we rely on correspondence. The hard work. Juanzi has always been a plain-faced person, but this time I heard her say that she puts on make-up for more than an hour every morning, and that it's too light for her to do so, but her boss still asks her to put on heavy make-up, which is a real challenge for Juanzi, but I firmly believe that she can do better. I think it's a challenge for Juanzi, but I'm sure she can do a better job. It's not easy to work hard wherever you are, and I just expect you to take care of yourself.
Two days ago, I transplanted a few orchids into pots, and in the process of transplanting, I found that the original orchid's root system is so well developed that the roots have sunk deep into the soil in just two weeks, and the key is that the root system is thick and long, and the root system is just a little bit small when I planted them before, and it is not at all fat, which is too incredible for people. Tiny orchids, narrow branches and leaves, seemingly delicate and weak, but the root system is so strong. People should be like orchids, should be with the passage of time, so that the heart is getting stronger and stronger!
I've been in Beijing for three years, and I'm not familiar with the city, but I'm in harmony with it.
Just when the night falls, see the roadside people eating barbecue in twos and threes, and hand in hand from the side of the couple, always can not help but think of the previous side of the brothers and sisters, suddenly sad 。。。。。。 Life is cool, the most difficult to resist the loneliness of the end of the song, there is nothing to do, can only look at the end of a thousand sails, can only look at the river water, can only drink alone mash wine, look at the autumn maple gold chrysanthemums slowly are thin.
The lights in the distance just do not belong to me, the street pedestrians sparse left me alone in the lights of the place to come and go ***, this all the way here, accompanied by my only self shadow, I looked up at the city, smiling and silent 。。。。。。 In my ears came Zhang Yu's song: "I finally know the loneliness of the end of the song / only sad people have / you last a red residue in my eyes / I do not have the excuse to cling to again / it turns out that this is the loneliness of the end of the song / I still want to wait for you to what 。。。。。。"