What song are you humming?
Who did you miss in the world of mortals?
In the world of mortals, which city did you pay homage to?
Love songs of the world of mortals, singing all the lush vegetation;
The love songs of the world of mortals are full of troubles and worries.
Love songs of the world of mortals, for whom do you sing melancholy? -inscription
In troubled times, there was a shortage of soldiers, plum wine was short and long, and the wind was jittery, and he went to blood shed several times.
Reward your confidant, make contributions, and travel in times of crisis. Think about it, the hero will be disappointed. The years are rarely silent, and the autumn wind is tired; The setting sun can't bear to set, and people are scattered and lonely.
In the past, the words in the ears of Iraqis have flowed eastward with the tide; Looking back, the past also falls with the maple leaves.
Precipitate the past and pick up beautiful sadness; Those flying years, those madness, those sadness, at a crossroads, the dust settled. Who forgot the past?
Weave the ideal of the future, although the front is confused; Still exploring in the unknown world, whose sadness is the beauty of the story?
The empty city remains the same, where only the stars are lonely, and the breeze is already in the dust, flowing away without a trace.
In previous lives, I was a snow lotus on a cliff, standing tall and swaying in Amb Lee, blooming alone. Wind and frost can't change the awe of the world on the cliffs.
Time cannot take away the fearlessness in the dust. Once upon a time, you were a passer-by under the cliff, facing the snow. In the world of mortals, you accidentally saw the fearless snow lotus tree on the cliff, wanted to touch the petals, stopped again, and lingered under the cliff. ...
Once, we wanted to trek across Qian Shan and Qian Shan to see the romantic scenery thousands of miles away, but our feet were unable to step out of the empty city and we could only wander in all the memories.
Those two deja vu figures are gone.
Now, the flowers bloom in the evening, and there are no more small castle buildings. Crying, laughing, it's been a long time, who is waiting for the closed windowsill?
Who is the chrysanthemum that geese fly over? Throw ink slips, draw long scrolls, and scholars jump into Longtan for their bosom friends.
Jade Han is still the same, the fragrance is still the same, and the flowers in the dream are separated by the curtain of the world of mortals. The heart is hard to understand, and the lovesickness is hard to cut. Acacia can't be broken Snow geese come back, back to the fence, complaining about the fence and the thin edge.
The east wind is gone, the moon is missing, the sword is flashing, and the dance is over! Last night, moss felt far away from dreams, and purple frost was cold.
The west wind is cool, how many clothes are left, the shadows are cold, and people are indifferent. After another wave of unrest, they treated each other sincerely, shooting sculptures in the clouds, feeling ashamed and heroic, but seeing tea all over the building.
Looking at Sisang in the east corner with tears streaming down her face. The festival is prosperous, who sings the soul back to the wind? The ancients recited poems and said, "Flowers bloom and fall all over the sky. Who pity the world of mortals? "
Who will understand the beauty of falling flowers? Falling flowers intentionally follow the flowing water, as prosperous as 3 thousand flowing water. I took a ladle, but I spent my whole life understanding it. I always thought it was it that made the flowers wither, but the flowers fell willingly, which was wrong.
The wind blows without trace, and three thousand flowers wither. Running water always thinks it is heartless, but shame is voluntary. Falling flowers deliberately drift with the flow, and flowers drift with the flow. I dreamed that the flowers were beautiful last night, and now only the flowers shed tears.
Prosperity, I haggard in the wind, the moon is small, no one complains. There is me in the world, my dream is still awake, and I drink acacia alone in the moonlight.
The fate of dust is like a dream, and I have tasted the kindness of people. It's a long way to Xiu Yuan, I can't help but miss you in the wind and rain.
In the golden years, I walked through every inch of warm land with quiet joy, chasing the lingering falling flowers, watching the eagle hit the sky directly and watching the fish swim to the bottom.
I walked along the Qingming Riverside, singing Tang and Song poems, listening to the Yuanqu Opera, enjoying the Kunqu Opera, watching a hundred flowers blossom and meeting all the surprises and beauties in the world. But often at this time, no one tells, who can understand this sadness?
In youth, the flowers bloom just right, and the enchanting of that season stirred my eyes and heart, and I suddenly felt the urge to cry.
Time flies by at my fingertips. I can't catch the ethereal fate, and I can't stay so short and beautiful. I can only try to write with my left hand and try to reverse the years. I can only look for it in the mountains and rivers and wander at the crossroads.
However, at the edge of the rock, the string has been broken, and the bosom friend does not know where. The road is still going on, and I, still stop and go, occasionally look back, take a look at the road where I came, see if there is a song in the mountains and rivers, and see if there is a bosom friend who is willing to sing a long flowing water for me.
Half a volume of poetry is fragrant and homeward, looking at the horizon and looking for a bosom friend. Jinse years, full of papers and books.
The world of mortals is faint, looking at Manzhu Shahua, quietly blooming for thousands of years; Leaves green for thousands of years, rippling in the ocean of words! Light hair, like glass, hangs on the branches. Light beauty, eyes, figure still smiling, send thousands of miles of sorrow.
The world of mortals has gone through countless cycles, blooming for thousands of years, revealing a little enchanting and quiet. Suffering, I prayed for thousands of years in front of the Buddha, watching and moving to heaven. Just think, just think, exchange the happiness of several generations for the fate of a lifetime.
The quiet rain falls gently, and whose eyes does it fall into? Who bent the nib?
Dark fragrance is full of sleeves, whose brow is hurt by makeup? Whose heart is sad when orchids and geese fall?
The west wind is cold, whose incense table is involved? Cold Smoke Leng Yue, whose arms are wet with tears?
Dead wood, whose tears have dried up? In the bamboo forest, who has tasted the tea lamp?
In front of the porch window, Shui Han's smoke and blue gauze covered the beautiful scenery. Night is dark, flowers are sleepless, and you are drunk. The fragrant inkstone is cold, the ink pen hangs, and the painter paints a red face. Dress up, comb your hair lightly and dress thinner.
Life is gentle, how much is lovesickness? How sad is it that the moon rolled over the poetry book?
Leaning on the railing alone, the wind blows snow, and the wind hits the half-moon phoenix tree. Is it safe to be gentle now? The west wind was cold all night. Who is worried about weaving dreams and hiding snow? On sad days, the spread of dance is desolation after prosperity.
Remember, you once said that winter is the most suitable for love, because love can make people warm, and you also told me that you don't need to make a commitment to love you, because you are afraid of losing love after the season, but, dear, you may not know that I have fallen into your prison, and winter has come, so you don't need me anymore?
The coolness of the night melts into your sweet dream, and the pipa whispers, fiddling with my thoughts, staying in this cold night. Looking at the lonely sea in the distance, can the fishing boats and people on the fishing boats also hear this beautiful piano sound?
Loyal to the soul, broken shadows dance, HongLing flies, and gods die every night.
How many fingers are dancing and writing, how many poems are complaining about the softness of words, holding the sonorous green front, but they can't hold it like water.
On the moonless battlefield, swords shed tears, sleeves danced lightly, and prosperity was lost, and seals were engraved on the lintel. Light up a pillar of incense, let the blue road of the poor road exude fragrance, and guide the wandering souls to return home.
Standing in the storm of the previous dynasty, I twisted my hair into a thread of missing, crossed the wandering autumn water and rolled up a curtain of dreams. Lonely stormy night, counting pale and messy sentences, dancing a butterfly dream to break the world of mortals.
How many romantic months, how many are empty tears, holding a sleepless moonlit night, holding a poem to borrow the moon; When the dew is cold, it is frosty, and when the fire is warm, it is drunk to watch the world of mortals.
In the gap between the years, all the gazing feelings have turned into a melancholy sigh. On the edge of the wandering years, push the cup and hold the lamp, splash ink at will, and write a few lingering old things into eternal words.
Between the lines, with the tenderness and endless thoughts between the fingers, it depicts the waiting for and attachment to the Millennium; With beautiful lingering, vicissitudes of customs, lonely joys and sorrows, woven into an eternal legend, eternal reincarnation.
The lights are on, the car is on the hippocampus, and there is a beautiful image under the moon. Which dynasty is prosperous?
When the Spring and Autumn Breeze Buddha indulged in the peach blossoms in the garden, it was hard to say what he wanted to say. When he talked endlessly, he lamented and remembered his New Year, dyeing his fingers with guzheng and breaking his strings with red dust.
It was fleeting, and the rain hit the banana, and Diane frowned lightly. In the place where songs are fragrant, whoever pulls the cuffs makes the past life cold and rainy, laughs at the clouds, lies drunk and plays a song, feeling a thousand years of sorrow.
Finger marks on the tail, lovers' dreams, moon banquets, jade bracelets, drunken West Lake and three-foot Shu brocade wedding dresses are difficult to embroider. In a faint old dream, it evokes the waning moon, touches the river and flows eastward.
Half water, half dust, lonely and charming. Wild geese pluck their hair without a trace, and there are many tears in the world, mostly for your life.
A sad song, snowflakes drifting away, looking at each other from a distance, when the spring breeze ripples on the willow bank. Who dreams, plays a butterfly love, dances again, and the beautiful image is hard to remember.
The rain is dancing, flying out of the fallen petal and intentionally following the current, which loves the fallen petal mercilessly. In the distance, there are traces of rain.
All kinds of helplessness are nothing more than emotional grief, easy to go, and the bright moon is like winter frost.
In those days, lace sleeves were soaked, pens were hung, and waves were everywhere on the shore. It's wrong to put pen to paper with a flick of a finger, leaving only a piece of paper to hurt tears.
How many degrees of snow and tears are there in this world?
The fate of gathering and parting is like water, and the depth of feelings is like the wind. Perhaps the passage of time has become a smoke cloud, a historical freeze? Cochineal tears, only for Na Yue residual red.
Perhaps, life is a tragedy, and no one can escape those nothingness and vicissitudes, just like the so-called love and affection in the world. When prosperity and backwardness finally become an empty dream, the so-called pledge of alliance and love is just a white lie.
Unfortunately, countless Iraqis have looked through the autumn water. Finally, I provoked bitter tears and left a heartbreaking voice. My heart is broken for Iraq. I turned around and shed tears, but I only hope that my feelings will have mercy on me, and I vaguely hope that you are thousands of miles away.
You know I used to love you, and you know I still miss you. When I left, I said I didn't cry. Why are my tears blurred? You looked at me in tears when we broke up. Do you remember me until now?
The story of love is on and off, and I'm not the only one who suffers. I once fell in love with each other vigorously, and I became a legend. In the romantic world of mortals, there are both you and me. Let me sing a song that loves you!
Your tenderness always bypasses my thoughts and grows in my life. Old dreams are hard to find, and old things are hard to remember.
Once upon a time, I sang and danced with you for a long time, and I was deeply in love with you for a long time, vowing that Jordan would pay for it all his life.
Now, memories return to dust and fate dies. The past has passed, in retrospect, it has become a stranger, leaving only countless acacia ashes.
Flowers on the stranger, cold smoke and green, mountains reflecting the sunset. Flying flowers are as light as dreams, and the rain is as thin as sorrow. Over the years, I have forgotten where I am.
Ren Qingfeng dazzles me with uneven hair, perhaps poetry is difficult to continue and dreams are difficult to stay. Your beautiful 3 thousand hair is that I have no chance to comb it for you in my life?
But I have no regrets when I meet and know each other in this life. In the touch of the breeze, I am still intoxicated, weaving the memory of dreams.
Unfamiliar, flowers bloom unintentionally, spring scenery is still zero, who has pity?
Miss water, Fang Hua burst into tears.
Acacia is like rain, flooding the dream mirror!
A world of mortals, all around the heart,
A world of mortals, who are you singing melancholy for?