Whose voice is stirring in the sky? Like crisp lightning, singing brightly the quiet night sky for thousands of years, the brilliant dreams exploded in the classical fireplace in Russia. I also pawned my coat with beautiful sincerity, savoring the mellowness. It is hard to part with each other when we meet. Who will accompany the beauty of the moon?
I sat in the lovesick valley and watched the flowers grow long, counting stars, being indifferent to the ambition, being quiet and far-reaching, and the singing is still beautiful, breaking through the clouds and fog, crossing mountains and ridges, presenting the rhyme and rhythm of poetry in the autumn colors. The deep love, which has been suspended in the blue background for too long, is like the white clouds flying inadvertently.
read autumn water and the long sky are the same color. Listen to the boatman's horn, the sunshine is floating, I also quietly push the empty door open with my scarred arms. In an instant, my shadow became a bright mirror, nothingness, flowing into a river and I became a fish again, gently closing the empty door, like a bird's nest built on the branches, but the birds have already flew, and only the wind calmly unloaded a white dream.
I don’t know the night, nor during the day, I am melancholy in the day and night, crying speechlessly, standing in a memory, the appearance of an ice sculpture goddess, the world is too small, the small makes me only know you, the world is too big, the big makes me lose myself, who carried my loneliness and made my light dance step out of invisible emotional wounds, thick knots and hearts, who pulled the gentle love down the curtain, and the tears left in the empty red candle? The sandalwood filled the dream, and I sighed, it was always very light, I hid behind the passing years but didn’t know whose thoughts should be counted, which turned into the sound of wind and rain.
