(original)
Seasons are always changing.
It became cold as it was hot, as if suddenly, from autumn to winter. There were not too many beautiful scenery in autumn and there were not too many greetings...
The poplar forest in the south of the city should be yellow, and the lilac wild chrysanthemum on the old city wall of the East Gate should also bloom. The reeds on the Cha River are also unpretentious, right?
When I think of you, I miss you. Those poems can’t escape from my mind. I just stay there. Such beautiful words, such beautiful thoughts, silently flowing, silently, in the heart, when I miss you in my dream, it will turn into a spring dream.
Just think of you like this, walking through the four seasons, walking through life.
Suddenly, it was winter. Just like the autumn does not understand people's emotions, it was all because of the autumn that there was too much sorrow and sorrow. It was cloudy and even the clouds were heavy. The clouds were deep and the rain fell. The rain was indeed cold, and the autumn rain was continuous, and it suddenly became winter.
Qiu and I were in love with each other, immersed in the valley of autumn, unwilling to leave, running in the fields of autumn, not wanting to go home. My love for autumn is so long. It is the Jinji Mountain Road dyed by several kilometers of forests, the Huaihe Ancient Road with golden poplar leaves for dozens of miles, the vast wetlands where the autumn water and the reed flowers are floating, and the long singing of the geese flying south. I just love this way, loving his color...
When autumn turns into winter, it is like an old man hanging down, the man in autumn like a mountain leaning against me has become a sabi winter...
I still love him deeply, love him through the weather and frost, love him endless openness, love him the gentle warm sun in the winter, love him walking inch by inch, caressing the light on my cheeks and back.
I love him and have been integrated into my bloodline. I am a flesh-and-blood-connected unity.
Winter is old autumn, it is still the joy of maturity, and it is rich silence.
ignite a stove, cook tea around the stove, roast sweet and warm words. I look forward to a heavy snowfall to block the mountain, and there is no need to go out, there is only the joy of two people. The birds with the light breeze, the bamboo shadows, an ancient rhyme, an ancient lamp, the wine becomes a poem, and the drink is slightly drunk at night, there is only a quiet world...
Relying on Lao Qiu's heart, he slowly grows old with him, and turns into clouds in the twilight, and turns into the clear and distant colors in the sky.
Love him is an unchanging promise in this life.
