"Chunting Snow" article/Li Mochou/Moshang/Waiting for me
The cloud windows are quietly hidden, unable to stop the reincarnation of the floating clouds in a season. The spring rain is not here, and the spring is not here. Yeonong, how can you whisper to Liuhua? The most pitiful and infatuated verdant green lingers in a pile of smoke, and the green hills are speechless and rainless.
I am still in a trance, I lift my eyes, and it is already falling
There are full steps, light dark cage windows, empty Qi Dongfeng, staring across the bank, water moon mirror flowers, tears hidden in the empty city. Traveling in a boat in a dream, looking at flowers in the mist, and encounters on the other side of the light and shadow, and forgetting each other day after day, the hovering posture is so clear.
The tranquility is as before, the pain is as before, and the thoughts that are as light as a clear tea are drowned in the deep green sighs of August. The increasingly lazy dance steps have been unable to revolve out of the fluttering loneliness.
The pear blossoms in the courtyard have been thanked for another year, and the moon and flowers bloom in the evening. The old music is played in the dream. The night is as cold as water, but it is dripping and falling into the sky, not understanding the depth. The Canghai Sangtian floating outside the window with melancholy, the sorrow of dying menstrual years, the dampness of lovesickness, speechless and congested.
The most sentimental is the spring court snow, every year it is full of Lirenyuan. 薛涛 The words on the paper are as if they were first seen. This life is too long but it stops at a short distance, and who still remembers the season of pear blossom ruoxue. My heart bandit cannot be turned, my heart bandit can not be swept away, and the love words in the empty stare are incomprehensible, and the pear blossoms in the court have been thanking for another year.
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