One person is a poem, two people are paintings, the long-lasting words are recited, the Sanskrit sound is like the smile coming from the water that permeates the love of the past life, continuing the story of this life. I stand quietly in the shade of the tree and the water pavil

One person is a poem, two people are paintings, the long-lasting words are thoughts, the Sanskrit sound is like the smile coming from the water that permeates the love of the past life, continuing the story of this life. I stand quietly in the shade of the tree and the water pavilions, watching the crowd, no longer feeling depressed and sad because of the unchanging. You have become my watch. When the dreams are in pairs, the poems and paintings are very lightly, just like peach blossoms flowing water, and at that moment I rub the joy of heartbeats.

I have loved and know that love is heavy. I wait for the years of knowing each other with the gentleness of words. My thoughts are like flowers, fragrant with you and me. Who amazed the time? Looking at each other, we know each other without regrets, cherish the gathering and separation, and longing for the boat flying across the sea through the mulberry fields, living in the high place of the soul, letting the warm breeze blow, intoxicating the affection of the two people.

Your deep affection is in my reach, planting a bouquet of fragrance in my heart, looking back and smiling, you and I are separated from each other, the stranded memories are engraved in my heart, the youthful and frivolous life is like a flower, and the beauty of the passing years cannot escape the invasion of the passing years. The sweet years as sweet as songs have slowly faded away layer by layer, and there is no end to the end.

How much love and hate have been polished and gone, too little support and too much forgetting each other, ending in vain, lamenting that time has flies, and deep in the years, withered into a past, lingering in the tip of the pen, how many sorrows have been lingered on the tip of the pen, but withered on the path covered with fallen leaves, touching the scene and hurting the feelings. I am at the end of the sky, you can be at the corner of the earth, a dust passes by, and a broken sentence full of thoughts condensed into a tone, blooming with all your heart, how many times have you seen the pavilion gone, half awake and half drunk.