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I like to stand in the autumn morning, look at the treetops swept by the wind, look at the flowers blooming in the courtyard, look at the sky fluttering clouds, all of which is the mercy of the years, are able to let me y touched. I like to cook a cup of tea, and the warmth of the temperature, in the afternoon, at dusk, in the quiet night, under the lamp, read some textured words, feeling how each sentence and sentence is superimposed into a colorful dream. Perhaps, the pattern of those words is a great lack of me, as if it is a small daisy encountered in the mountains and fields in the morning in the fall, with a shallow small dewdrops, through the thin small steal, so that those word code in my opinion is still precious.
It's like reading Eileen Chang, must start at the age of green and green in general, from a punctuation mark, to the end of a story, there is a little bit of ink fragrance, there is a little bit of green and white, it is a paper time of tears of joy and sighs of joy. There are many stories and stories of the landscape, I think, I will go one by one to meet with, I said, I was never an idea person, I just want to follow the light of the day to plant emotions, if you know, I will be full of joy.
It is often said that the fall is a gathering of clouds and the sky, is the rain and the trees of the happy, that night the autumn wind across the wilderness, the grasses and trees hunting, I will know that the late autumn is not far away. The clouds of geese from the north to the south, with a warm dream to find their own spring, as the love of the people, with the obsession to stick to the promise, stick to, every eagerly awaited success.
Time flies, how many images have been no longer before, and how many emotions are just a flash in the pan, the heart of the idyllic, is close to the twilight of the fall, perhaps, there will be the day of the old. A person sitting at the window, look at the shadow and the wind gently around, look at the flowers and leaves alone in silence, look at a tea from the water mist boiling to the peace and silence, and the light of the old site is covered with fine dust, like the overlap of the warmth and memories, and never intentionally cleaned.
Really old? By having to admit, the autumn wind whisked across the forehead, accidentally leaving a trace, covered over the years, finally, grew into moss. You said, time will not be slow to wait, Xu I come far from heaven and earth, Xu you smile brilliant as flowers, all this is the grace of time, like trees and flowers, even if the old age, but also a leaning, a kind of companionship, and why fear the mountains are high and water is far away.
Every day, still facing the morning wind travel, eyes, there is warm sunshine to lead the way, all the joy is the heart of the flourishing sentiment, as, we met in the fall rain, close, dense, condensation, heart, let the emotions settled, the ink will be overflowing a far-reaching enlightenment. The footsteps of time, is a lonely and noisy intermingling, all the prosperity and alienation are hidden in the unusual scene, and Niannian generated emotions, is the most beautiful embellishments in this unusual. In the wind when encountering a rain, in the rain when reading a flower, in the flower when twisting up a smile, time is always just the right charm.
Dawn and rise, twilight and fall, not with the sadness and joy to add a variety of controversial reasons to see a hundred kinds of flashy in the hands of the spread shallow and lying. The world will be condensed in the heart, not complicated, not pretentious, just follow a Zen rhyme, such as the breeze over the ripples of the water, and as the corner of the lips gently murmur in the accidentally left out of the broken language, shallow halo, is also full of poetry.
Poem about the fall, has been written more and more scribbles, know that the lintel on the cold, but do not dare to hang high, lest, the wind will be anxious to blow the thin text mess. Despite the fact that the years have not allowed me half a day's leisure, I still like to keep a plant that blooms in full bloom by the window, as if the warm color feeds my little happiness. If, those flowers, can still be across the autumn water long day insisted on opening into a happy face, just let them brilliant, I and peacefully sitting on the side, counting the story of the paragraph, as well as between the fingers slipped that summer. There must be something else that is drifting away in the grace of time, because it's too long ago, and perhaps the route from whence it came will be overlooked.
Can't go back, about those years, there is a voice kept calling softly, then, keep the sea within the heart of the sea, keep half of the cold and warm, will be the years comfortably over. So said, and so after the rain, we can pick an autumn fruit, pick a few autumn flowers, pick a wisp of autumn wind, pick a few drops of autumn rain, pick it, every day to pick the best of the light of the day to pick home, dried, in the cold winter began to brew tea, by then, I invite you to come, *** cut window, *** words mulberry outlet, the eyes of the eye, fingertips of the surround, *** this, each other pleased and happy.
Autumn, the rain from the clouds generated from the tree branches and leaves fall, through the small window wind courtyard, through a clump of chrysanthemum-colored stamens, through the green stone paved paths, through the osmanthus fragrance, through the flowers and leaves fall, the grass and trees will be among the message of love transmission. Like an elegant woman, wearing a moon white cotton dress, in the dense shade of the alley walking through, a hand, a foot, a look back, a smile, are enough to enrich the fall. The fall in our eyes is to sweep the leaves while planting spring buds, listen to the rain while cutting mulberry, sunshine while folding the old clothes, counting the west wind while watching the frost. When everything is arranged, it will be the time of the first winter snow.
At that time, we sit opposite each other, take a few pieces of autumn incense, add a few chrysanthemum white, clean water to wash the dust, pick up firewood to warm the fire, cook a pot of mountain bright water quiet love, I am at peace with you, at peace with the world, with all the love can be at peace. As you said, by the bright light of the autumn sun, by the temperature of the grass and trees, and with full of autumn hibernation, and so on the next year, the land is renovated, the whole valley is full of green, you and I, and can be at ease in the next cycle of the seasons. The first thing I'd like to say is that I don't know what to say, but I'd like to say that I don't know what to say, and I'd like to say that I don't know what to say, and I'd like to say that I don't know what to do.
It is said that the soul is fragrant, the fragrance is hidden in the flower fields of the years, by the wind blowing over, in the breath of heavy fluoride, in the brow of jumping, you do not need to be anxious, leaning quietly in the window on the rocking chair, slowly, slowly, you can shake out of the beauty of the ride and a ride. Sometimes, the beauty of the heart, is the intoxication of the self, is oblivious to the intoxication, like the cool breeze of the morning, read the spring once wrote to the fall of the love poems, then the poem, seems to be some of the flavor of the green. At that time, she wrote: I want to find a person, from the time of planting the flower red, according to the green flower vine growth, guarding the shallow flowers and fall, do not talk about the sadness and happiness, do not listen to the wind and rain, only in the morning when the twilight fall to look at each other and smile, and then, the white head will not leave each other.
Remember, once passing through a countryside, the roadside stood a woman with white hair, combed with a long ponytail, watercolor plate button blouse, white pants, years, as if it is only mottled her hair, she stood there, still looks beautiful, still maintains the elegance of the unchanged. You see, time, in fact, is a more delicate flower, do not ask, she is old? About love, she waited? Her smile is the best answer.
Ride after ride of the landscape, in the eyes, in the heart, are successively faded, only to suddenly remember, so many fragments have not yet had time to cherish, in the light and shadow of the charm of the revisited, but also just a flower in the mind, the so-called end of the song, said roughly this meaning. If the heart is an acacia wood that will shed tears, then, every day, please let me, will use the pious faith to worship you, until it grows into a tree flower, bear a tree fruit, when the spring light is brilliant swaying, the wind over the summer lotus in the smoked, the autumn love surging when the harvest, the winter plum reflecting the snow when the proper, when the seasons in the eyes of the most beautiful scenery, that acacia, has grown into the heart of the Bodhi.
Time, year after year, January after January, day after day, as if, minutes and seconds are traveling in the landscape, so, that year in the corner of the dust of chance encounters, those with the temperature of the life touched, finally, finally, can be peacefully fell into the poem is being assembled.
Text/Flower Xie Breathless
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